


Sick Is What You Know

by bombhanks



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Gerard/Frank - Freeform, M/M, Mental Hospital, Mikey Way - Freeform, My First Fanfic, Ray Toro - Freeform, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombhanks/pseuds/bombhanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a patient at William James Mental Hospital. Life there has been pretty good so far; he's recovering from depression quicker than anyone expected, and he doesn't wake up immediately wanting to hang himself anymore. His last days at the hospital are soon approaching, faster than he's ready for- but that changes when Gerard is admitted. Suffering from an illness alien to Frank, it becomes his designated job to secure Gerard's rehabilitation at William James. But curing someone from a severe mental disorder is a lot harder than it seemed, and Frank doesn't know if he has the ability to ensure Gerard's permanent well being. Feeling as though the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, Frank finds himself slipping into his old, deadly ways- and he's not sure how much longer he can stand the pressure without falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Could've Knocked Me Out With a Feather

“Guys! Wake up!” Mark bangs on the door loudly. Frank groans in response, making no effort to actually wake up. Besides, his roommate Dane will gently shake him from his sweet slumber in a few moments, whispering soft words of encouragement for the day ahead.

“Frankie, it’s time to wake up… c’mon buddy, Sun’s peeking out already, see him? He’s so happy to see you, Frankie, c’mon…”  
Dane believes that all nature speaks to him (and only him), and it’s his job to get their messages across to human civilization and turn everyone into environmentalists, or the world will explode from the inside out.

“Okay, Dane, okay, I’m up.” Frank grumbles. “And could you not whisper in my ear like that? It’s kind of creepy…”

“Sure, no problem, buddy.” Dane replies, pursing his lips sympathetically and laying a hand on Frank’s shoulder. Yep, its official, Frank thinks. Dane is totally in love with me.

He sits upright in his bed, yawning and stretching out his arms. Dane was right— the sun is streaming long, thin rays of light through their window. Frank glares at the sun light— it makes him tired and irritated. Why couldn't it just be gray and cloudy all the time?

Usually when the sun comes out, Frank remains in the dark shadows of his bedroom for the entire weekend. Well, that used to be the case. Ever since a couple weeks ago, Frank hasn’t been able to retreat back to any bedrooms when the sun is high in the sky; he’s been, instead, forced to sit outside for twenty minutes a day, boiling and writhing in the summer heat. All thanks to William James Mental Hospital.

Frank drifts slowly down the hall, carrying his toiletry bag in one hand, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the other. He stumbles around the bathroom for a few minutes— blearily brushing his teeth, splashing cold water on his face to wash away the soap, practically collapsing against the towel rack. He drops the bag off on his bed, walking past the bathrooms again and disregarding the fact that it’d been two days since his last shower. Along the way to the cafeteria he silently accepts his morning pills from the plump nurse behind the counter. He swallows the Prozac and Xanax, chasing them down with a gulp of water.

He makes his way slowly down the breakfast line, grabbing a small box of cereal and a carton of milk. He sits down at his usual table, prying open the cereal and dumping it into the plastic bowl. He dips his spoon into the pale brown, staring disgustedly at it before tipping the flakes into his mouth.

Ew, he thinks. It tastes like feet.

A man in his mid-fifty’s plops down across from Frank, placing a napkin delicately over his lap. He readjusts the napkin, then does it again, and again. He scoots it up closer to his knees, then back down again, then up, down, up, down- he stops, placing his hands on the table, staring down at his lap with a slightly open mouth, concentrating on not moving his legs so as to shake the napkin.

His right knee twitches. An aggravated sigh escapes his parted lips, and he throws his hands back under the table, readjusting the napkin yet again.

“Hi, Carl.” Frank says. Carl nods in greeting, not lifting his eyes from his lap. Frank remains silent, chewing on his cereal, knowing Carl will talk when he’s ready.

“Good morning.” Carl says quietly once he’s finished with his napkin placement.

“How are you?” Frank asks.

Carl shrugs. “Alright. You?”

Frank shrugs back.

“I know.” Carl says, nodding. Frank smiles, relaxing at Carl’s simplicity, at his ability to completely understand Frank.

“Hi, guys!” Dane sits down in the seat next to Frank, scooting close so that his pale forearm brushes lightly against Frank’s sweater-covered one. Frank moves a few inches away, hoping Dane doesn’t notice. He breathes a sigh of relief when Dane remains where he is seated, happily cracking open a box of cereal. Frank notices it’s the same brand he is eating.

“Soooo,” Dane drawls, grinning between Carl and Frank. “What’s uuuuup?”

Carl stares at Dane, looking completely emotionless. Unperturbed, Dane grins even wider at him, waggling his thick eyebrows.

“Uh, Dane, you ask this every morning, and we— well, I— always respond the same: nothing new is ever ‘up’ with us.” Frank tries to speak delicately, not wanting to hurt Dane’s feelings, regardless of how annoying he could be. Even though Dane was just as trapped in the hospital as the rest of the patients, it still felt like he was mocking them whenever he said ‘what’s up’— it was like he was saying, ‘Hey, guys, what’s new in the world of crazy psychopaths, hmm?’

“I know,” Dane giggles, swatting playfully at Franks arms. Maybe it was just Frank, but it felt like Dane’s fingers lingered there a little too long. He suppresses a shudder, scooting even farther from Dane. “But if I don’t ask that then it feels like we really are in a mental institution, ya know? But if I ask what’s up, it feels like we’re in the normal world, and we haven’t seen each other in a few days, and we have oh so much to tell each other.” Frank cocks his head in thought. I guess the kid’s got a point. Well, fuck me; maybe Dane isn't completely senseless after all.

“Oh, I forgot to mention— last night, me and the Moon were talking, right? And he was all like, ‘Dane, my boy, you gotta get it in these people’s brains— I am NOT the source of werewolf activity! Why should I get all the blame for bringing the beasts out? If anything, it’s you humans who…” Dane keeps talking, but Frank’s tuned him out.  
Dane continues his story for the next few minutes, chewing ferociously at his soggy cereal. Carl seems to be listening to Dane, but Frank is completely bored with their conversation— he bounces his leg restlessly, actually hoping, for once, that Outdoor Rec is soon. But a new and exciting topic pops up when Tony races over to their table, coming to an abrupt halt and panting with his hands on his knees.

“You okay, man?” Frank stands up, bending down to look at Tony’s face. He lifts a hand up, nodding with his eyes closed. Frank sits back down, noticing Dane looking pointedly at Tony with his arms crossed.

Tony gulps in some air, his pale blue eyes darting around nervously. His voice is low and quick when he says, “I have some information for you guys.”

“What is it?” Dane asks, sitting forward. Carl stares at his half eaten omelet, looking positively bored, and probably unaware that Tony was leaning down next to him. Carl loses himself sometimes, drifting off into a dark world of his own. It actually freaks Frank out sometimes, when they’re alone; one minute Frank has his full undivided attention, with Carl’s eyes staring deeply into his own- and within a second they glaze over, drifting down to Frank’s nose or other facial feature. Carl’s jaw slacks a little, his shoulders slump, and Frank ceases his conversation, knowing he’s lost Carl for the time being.

“Well, I was getting my meds from Anise” – so that’s the cheery nurse’s name – “when I overhear some guards mumbling to each other. I perk up my ears and take my time swallowing the pills. One of them is all like, ‘How do you think they’re gonna handle Group today?’ and the other’s like, ‘I dunno, I hope they don’t scare the shit out of him like they did C.J.’ and his friend’s all like, ‘Yeah, and I hear this guy is like, extra weird, so we’re gonna have to keep a close watch on the flight risks.’ And the other one nods all serious and stuff.” Tony stares at us, wide eyed, waiting for our reactions. Dane is the first one to speak, almost immediately:

“A new patient!”

Tony smacks the table. “Bingo!” he yell-whispers.

“What are you guys so excited about? It’s just a new patient.” Frank cuts in. Tony and Dane both turn to him in astonishment. Dane got here a week after Frank, who has been at James Walker for three, and Tony got in about two days after him. So basically, the idea of new patients/a new dessert on the food menu/a new security guard outside the bathroom at night is like, the most exciting thing ever for them.

“Frank- Frank- Look at me.” Tony whispers, clutching at the sides of Frank’s face. He leans in very close and looks Frank dead the eyes. Ignoring his silent plea for him to back off a little, Tony continues, “It’s a new patient. A new friend. Don’t you like making friends?”

Frank shrugs. He likes making friends, but people have always left him. His mom died in childbirth, leaving Frank to his father with no other siblings to help take care of him. When Frank hit the age where it was time to start pre-school, his Father took off- literally. He dropped him off on the doorstep of Frank’s grandparents’ house in South Jersey, speeding off to god knows where. Frank’s pretty sure he’s not even in America anymore. He tried making friends throughout his young life, but everyone seemed to get bored of him after a few months. Frank finally just got used to this, and decided he’d rather have no one at all than grow to care for and love someone, and then have them ditch him in the dead of night. Yeah, it’s better of this way, Frank tries to assure himself.

Tony shakes his head, baffled at Frank’s lack of enthusiasm. “They’re probably gonna be really cool, Frank, and I’m gonna go right up to them and say ‘Hey, see that guy over there?’ ” – Tony pointed at Frank, who put up his hands in surrender – “‘that guy doesn’t want to be your friend.’ And you’ll be stuck back at square one; you’ll go to dinner with no new friends made today, and you’ll feel all sorry for yourself and –“

“Dude, Tony, easy up on him, will ya?” Dane interjected, rubbing franks shoulder. Frank swallows and tries not to move farther away.

“Whatever.” Tony storms off to another table of bland-looking patients, leaning in closely and regaling his story to the new listeners.

“Tony can be so weird sometimes!” Dane says, sighing.

“I dunno; we’re all in this mental hospital, so we’re all pretty equally fucked up, right?” Frank asks. Dane winces when Frank say ‘fucked up’, and he makes a mental note not to cuss around him. Everyone here seems to be pretty sensitive about cussing, which is bothersome for Frank, since curse words are like, half his vocabulary.

“All right everyone, please put your trays away and let’s head outside!” Mark calls out to the cafeteria. There’s a squeaking of chairs against the floor as everyone gets up to clear off their trays and cups. Frank catches a few of the twitchier oldies standing up and hurrying away from their table, then sighing aggregately as a nearby attendant gently leads them back to the table to pick up their trays. Dane is already out the door, happily bathing in the morning sunlight. Frank turns to Carl, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Carl, its Outdoor Rec time.” Carl nods mutely, slowly backing away from the table and heading to the door. Frank picks up his tray and heads to the dirty-tray rack, earning a ‘thanks, Frank’ from Mark.

Once outside in the chilly air, Frank stares around for a few moments, squinting and holding up a hand to block the sun. He decides that the big oak tree towards the back of the courtyard is where he wants to spend the next twenty minutes, so he leaisurely strolls over there. His thin sweater doesn’t protect his skin from the blowing gust of wind, which seeps in through his clothes and makes him shiver.

Outside Recreational Time is usually a pretty quiet part of the day for Frank; Dane is so wrapped up in his nature adventures that he doesn’t usually say anything more to Frank except maybe run up and tell him what a petunia just yelled at him, and then running away to talk to some grass. Carl stops by sometimes, if he’s totally there- but if he’s gone, far away in Carl Land again, you can usually spot him standing around somewhere, staring up at the sky for the full twenty minutes of Outside Rec.

Frank leans back comfortable against the wood of the tree, biting his lip, playing with the silver ring that he always says he’ll clean but never does. It’s probably pretty bad, the fact that he barely cleans it once a month. But, he thinks, cleaning your piercings is like New Year’s resolutions- you try really hard at them for the first week, and then totally forget about them the rest of the year.

Soon enough, the roaming patients are called back inside and are lead to the Group Therapy room. This, Frank thinks, might just be the part of the day that he both hates and loves the most- he hates it because when it’s his turn to share, he gets pissed off because everyone expects him to tell his deepest secrets. Why should he talk about that shit to fucking strangers? Not only are they strangers, but they’re psychotic strangers that may or may not want to kill him. Frank’s almost positive there’s at least one schizophrenic, a couple bipolars, and then most of the rest he doesn’t even know what the fuck is up with. Yep, that about sums up the patients at William James; they come and go, some leaving after only a week’s stay due to their ‘impressive and inspirational progress’, and others that were here before Frank, and who look like have no hope of leaving within the next few years. Frank shudders, burning with the anxiety that he might be one of those patients.

Colleen, the Activity Director and Group Therapy Conductor (yeah, Conductor, like they’re on a fucking train or some shit), assumes her usual comfy looking roller chair at the top of the circle. Group Therapy is split between Monday and Tuesday, since William James has a fairly large number of patients right now; Frank doesn’t know how everyone got separated, but his Monday Group seems to be pretty chill; no one randomly bursts out that the voices just told them aliens have just landed off the coast of the Atlantic and are preparing to destroy the world; and no one has tried to attack anyone in the room yet, so Frank assumes he could do a lot worse. Tuesday Group has already ostracized Monday Group; they regard them with displeasure in the cafeteria, and avoid them during Indoor and Outdoor Rec. Frank’s pretty sure he wouldn’t want to hang out with any of them anyways.

“Good morning, everyone!” Colleen squawks. Well, maybe not squawks, but she definitely does sound like a bird with a pretty loud and high pitched voice; and to make matters worse, she repeats things a lot- mostly things that other people say.

“Good morning.” They all repeat back to her lazily. She grins wide, revealing a straight set of glistening white teeth. Her dark brown hair falls in thick curtains around her face, accenting her high cheekbones.

“So, today- I have some exciting news for all of you.” Colleen says, looking smugly at us. People turn to each other, exchanging shielded and quizzical looks.

Colleen clears her throat. “We are receiving a new member to our Group today!”

“Are they from Tuesday Group?” Someone asks. The group turns to Colleen, looking scared.

“No, silly,” Colleen waves her hand, making a pfft sound. “A new group member, I said.” Okay, Yoda, Frank thinks. Way to avoid the word ‘patient’ or ‘lunatic’.

The group sighs, looking relieved. “He’s come all the way from New Jersey, and we’d like to give him a big New York welcome!” Colleen says, clasping her hands together.

“So, we’re gonna give him dirty looks for being out of town and spill coffee on him?” someone mutters, causing the group to erupt in laughter. Ah, Monday Group.  
Colleen frowns. “No, Kat. We’re going to treat him with kindness and respect.” At the word ‘him’, a few girls straighten up in their seats, some clawing at their tangled hair or straightening their shirts.

“So, where is he?” the girl - Kat - asks.

Colleen checks her watch. “He’ll be here any minute now, I’d expect. But, while we’re waiting for him- I’d like to go over the proper ways to –“ Colleen is interrupted, thankfully, by a loud knock on the door. “Behave,” she whispers harshly, and then, “Come in!” She stands up, smoothing out her black knee-length skirt, spreading a huge grin on her face. Frank notices lines indenting the smooth skin at the corner of her mouth- probably from all the fake-ass smiles, he thinks.

The Group Therapy door opens and in steps a guard Frank always sees walking around, but has never gotten the name of. He seems like a pretty chill guy; he doesn’t put on a fake smile all day, to give the false impression that we’re all fucking ecstatic to be here, but he does seem pretty nice. Following him, looking timidly and taking small steps, is probably the most gorgeous man Frank has ever laid eyes on.

He looks to be around Frank’s age, maybe seventeen or eighteen, which makes Frank like him even more. People your age are always less intimidating, you know? Even if you’re total opposites, you can still connect on some small level. And this guy, this fucking guy; Frank wanted to connect with him all day long.  
The new guy wore simple black jeans and a black V-neck. The dark colors contrasted gloriously with his white skin, which looked smooth as marble. Frank’s eyes traveled up his body, past his neck, settling on his face. The flesh along his jaw was clean shaven- the hospital probably told him it had to be, because everyone here has to look like we totally aren’t a bunch of fucked up wackos that don’t know the basics of body hygiene.

The dude’s eyes were hazel, with noticeable flecks of bright green and gold. They were encased with lids full of long, black lashes that seemed to glint in the bright light shining from the ceiling. Frank couldn’t stop staring at his fucking eyes, and apparently he was making it obvious, because Hot Guy flicked the hazel beauties over to Frank, then back to Colleen in an instant. Frank looked away, too, feeling embarrassed for the first time in weeks. Knowing that he’s probably one of the mellowest patients at William James, what with only having a case of Major Depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, he didn’t ever feel embarrassed at the hospital. Man, getting back to the real world if going to be a huge slap in the face to my self-esteem.

Frank leans back in his chair, crossing his legs tightly and focusing his attention on Colleen, trying hard not to stare the new guy who was now standing next to Colleen, having being lead over by the guard.

“Okay, everyone, like I told you- we are very pleased to have a new group member joining us today!” Colleen lays a delicate hand on the newbie’s back, making him flinch slightly.  
She notices this and removes her hand and places it in her other, holding them together against her chest. “Would you like to tell us your name?”

The guy licks his lips lightly. “It’s uh… It’s Gerard.”

Colleen stares at the group, keeping the smile on her face though her eyes look deadly. No one says a word, but frank takes the hint and speaks up. “Hi, Gerard.” he says, picking at a small hole in his jeans without looking up. The group repeats his greeting. Frank glances up at Gerard just in time to see the flush of red running from his necks to his cheeks. Aww, is he embarrassed? Frank thinks, smiling to himself.

“Excellent, excellent. Gerard, you can take that seat right over there” – Colleen pointed to a seat across the circle, facing Frank’s side – “and we’ll get started!”  
Once Gerard sits down, Colleen begins with the day’s lecture; something about the importance of blah blah, the use of something something, and closes the lesson with a reminder of the Golden Rule.

She then begins sharing time with a cheery, “So, who wants to start today?”

Somebody raises his hand, the same guy that usually starts Sharing Time, going on and on about his mind’s inner workings until Colleen seems to regretfully cut him off. This usually gets the flow of feelings moving around the room, until every patient had said something about their goals for the day or how they didn’t like last night’s dinner or that they “wanted out of this fucking shit place”. That last one’s generally Frank, by the way.

The talkative guy finishes speaking and Colleen turns to Frank. “Frank?” She prompts sweetly. “How are you doing?”

Frank’s tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. Fuck, Frank thinks, Gerard is totally watching me now.

“Um… I’m good.”

“Is that all?” _Back the fuck off, Colleen._

Wanting to get out of the spotlight as fast as possible, Frank mumbles, “It felt nice outside today.”

“Good! I’m glad you’re enjoying the weather. It’s been a _glorious_ first few days of December, eh?” _Nobody fucking asked you what you thought of the month of December, Colleen._  
He sees Colleen shift her body over from the corner of his eye. Frank straightens himself, excited for what he knew what was coming next. “Gerard? How are things with you?”

Gerard bites his lip in thought. Fuck, that’s hot. “Uh, good?”

“How do you like William James so far?”

Gerard ran a hand through the playfully tangled mass of black hair on his head. “… Good, I guess. You guys seem… nice?”

“We sure are! You’re going to make a lot of friends here, Gerard, both with your fellow Group members and the staff. And you’re going to get better, which is what’s most important.” Gerard lifted the corners of his lips in a half-hearted attempt to smile, then returned to staring at his bouncing knee.

“Anyone have anything else they want to get off their chest?” Colleen waited, looking around expectantly. “No? Okay! Well, everyone have a great day, and remember: tonight is Monday Movie Night! We’ll be showing an Antarctic nature and animal life documentary- it’s going to be fabulous!” Everyone stands up as soon as Colleen finishes her sentence, filing out into the hall. It was now… well, there was some complicated name for it that Frank couldn’t remember, but he liked to just call it Free Time. Most everyone went to the Rec Room, where there were various board games and cards; shelves of high school level books, along with coloring and puzzle books; and a TV that played old cartoons, or sometimes recent ones that Frank liked to watch, like SpongeBob. The Rec Room had lots of comfy chairs and beanbags, and was about the size of the cafeteria.

Frank drifted over to the cafeteria, stopping at the coffee bar and placing a white cup under the dispenser. He pressed the on button, watching the dark liquid spew out and into his cup, sizzling and steaming and-

 

“Excuse me?” someone taps Frank’s shoulder. He turns around, and his mouth parts open in surprise when he sees it’s the new “group member”, Gerard.

“Uh- yeah?”

“Hi, um, sorry to bother you- “, Gerard swallows, then continues, “But is coffee free to all the patients here?”

“What? Oh, yeah! Yeah, it is.” Frank feels embarrassed for acting so awkward, so he turns back to his coffee, removing it from under the dispenser and moving over to the to the side of the counter, pouring in cream and sugar.

“Wow, that’s cool.” Gerard grabs a cup, pressing the on button and waiting for his cup to fill.

“Yeah- they’re pretty chill about that kind of stuff here. Y’know, the right to wear your own clothes, get your own coffee, spend Rec time however you want- shit like that.” Fuck! What if he gets mad at me for cussing?! Fucking Hell, Frank!

Gerard nods. “That’s good. I was scared it was gonna be like a fucking prison- that’s what all the insane asylum horror stories are like, you know.” Gerard moves next to Frank, grabbing a lid without having added any cream or sugar. Great, now you look like a pansy who can’t handle black coffee.

“Insane asylum? It’s just a mental hospital, dude. We aren’t in Alcatraz or anything.” Frank smiles at Gerard, who smiles back widely; Frank notices his teeth are unusually small and pointy. He tries to imagine Gerard with normal sized teeth and decides that would look weird on him.

Gerard laughs, shrugging. “Hey, man, I’ve never been to one of these before.”

“Me neither.” Frank says, holding his coffee with both hands and looking up at Gerard. Fuck being so small.

Gerard turns to him, holding his coffee as well. “How long have you been here?” he asks gently.

“Three weeks, nearing four. I got here a little after the begining of November.” Gerard whistles under his breath, and Frank coninues, “It’s actually not that long- I know that some of the Tuesday Group patients have been here for a long time- some of them even a couple years.”

“Jesus.” Gerard mutters. “Do you think I’ll be here that long?”

I shrug. “Depends on how fucked up you are.”

Gerard doesn’t smile at this. His eyebrows furrow a bit, and the corners of his lips turn down. Oops. “Well, I don’t actually know how ‘fucked up’ I am, but apparently enough to get me landed in this hole. Maybe you think it’s funny to be ‘fucked up’, but I don’t and just so you know-“

“Gerard? Frank?” a man’s deep voice cuts off Gerard’s increasingly heated rant. Frank gulps, looking in the direction of the voice, taking a few steps away from Gerard.

“Hi, Doctor Toro.”

Doctor Toro is the lead Psychologist at William James, the one that you have private meetings with once a week; you never know when to expect them, which sucks, because you could be having a bad fucking day when all the sudden it’s time to go discuss your sanity with Doctor Toro. But, he’s actually a really cool dude; he’s super chill, and he’s actually pretty funny, and he seems like a very wise man, who doesn’t really like to show it off. Plus it was fun to stare at his huge head of curly hair.

“Hello, Frank. Hello, Gerard.” Gerard is holding his forehead now, and grasping his coffee cup with dangerous looseness. He looks up, blinking rapidly. “Uh?”

Dr. Toro turns around, motioning someone over with his hand. “James, please take Mr. Way to the Recreational Room, and show him the many fun activities we have set up for him.” James, the nice-looking guard that had led Gerard into the Group Therapy room, nodded and gently took a hold of Gerard’s arm, muttering something in his ear and steered him slowly out of site towards the Rec Room.

“Follow me, Frank.” Dr. Toro was on the move, walking speedily across the Cafeteria, down a long hall, and leading Frank into his office. He strolls past Frank, gesturing to the comfortable leather chair in front of his desk, and seating himself in his own spinning chair. He laces his fingers together in his lap, leaning back and spinning his chair left and right slowly with his feet.

“So, you’ve met Gerard.”

“Uh, yeah.” Dr. Toro is staring at Frank with his warm brown eyes, and he no longer feels nervous about being in his office. The doctor leans forward, which makes Frank lean forward, so they’re both staring at each other in intense interest.

“Listen, Frank. I’m so glad that you’re being nice to Gerard; it really is great to see that from you. But, if you’re going to turn this into a friendship, I would like to warn you of something: Gerard’s mental state.” Frank’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Did you noticing anything different about Gerard, by comparing your social etiquette to his?”

“Well… he kind of seemed to be pretty mad towards the end of our conversation there, when you butted in” – Doctor Toro smiles at this – “but he seemed really nice before that. Nothing weird or anything.”

“Ah, yes, he was mad. Do you know, maybe, what he was mad about?”

“Um- well, sorry if this offends your or something- but he asked if I thought he’d be here long, and I said that it depends on how… fucked up he is. And he got really pissed all the sudden.” Frank knows that as a fellow patient, he probably shouldn’t be ratting on Gerard for acting strange, because that can add a couple weeks to someone’s stay here, even if they were JUST about to get out. But hey, Gerard just got here, and it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon. And he kind of freaked out on me, so, whatever.

“Hmmm.” Dr. Toro writes types on his computer, pursing his lips. After a few moments he spins away from the computer and leans forward towards Frank again, resting his long arms on the big mahogany desk. “Frank, since you seem to be a good influence on the patients you have made friends with so far, I’m going to tell you something about Gerard, so as to help further his mental progress here at William James.” Frank nod, swallowing thickly.

“Gerard- to put it bluntly- has Multiple Personality Disorder. It’s now more recently referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, but people are able to grasp the idea of the illness better when it’s called the former. Anyways, Gerard’s case of this is very severe. I’m pretty sure you’ve never met or befriended anyone with it, have you?” Frank shakes his head. No, he had never met someone with Multiple Personality Disorder, and he honestly didn’t know what it was, but thankfully Dr. Toro had a ready explanation of the illness prepared.

“DID is a mental disorder, obviously, that is commonly characterized by at least two or more distinct identities, or dissociative personality states that alternately control a person’s behavior. They experience lapses of time or severe memory issues, sometimes randomly spacing out in the middle of a conversation, then coming to a few moments later, having completely forgot what you were talking about. The person essentially becomes a helpless and sometimes unaware passenger in his or her own body.”

Dr. Toro paused, letting this information sink into Frank’s brain. He then cleared his throat and continued, “Almost always, Multiple Personality Disorder is caused by heavily traumatic events from early on in childhood. Usually abuse; physical, sexual, verbal; the death of a close relative, maybe a parent… you get what I mean?” Frank nodded quickly.

This was all so much information to take in at once, but he didn’t want to stop Dr. Toro, who was clearly dumbing this down as much as possible.

“It is clear that Gerard has this disorder, but we are not sure what is the source of it is. His mother sent us an email a few weeks back, asking for our help and treatment. It didn’t appear, from the application, that she had much money; she’s a single parent, didn’t even mention the dad except for the fact that he’s been gone since a few years after Gerard’s birthing. Anyways, she somehow came up with the money for Gerard to attend this facility, which is both great and a curious mystery, but she gave no help or clues as to what may have caused Gerard’s illness. His younger brother had no ideas either. And Gerard has almost no recollection of his childhood up until about the fourth grade.”  
Frank takes deep breath, his mind swimming. “So… why are you telling me all this?”

Dr. Toro smiled kindly, understanding Frank’s confusion. Frank just wanted Dr. Toro to hug him and give him a lollypop or something; he was just so damn loveable. “I’m telling you this because I think you can help Gerard.”

“How?”

“Because, Frank, all of the staff, including myself, has noticed how much of a good influence you are on everyone around you. You’re kind, patient, and understanding. It’s truly amazing, considering how bad a state you were in when you got here- which, might I add, was only barely a month ago.”

Frank grimaces, remembering how fucked up he was when he first got to William James. Having just tried to kill himself by downing a bottle of sleeping pills a few nights before, he was in a terrible physical and mental state- weak, angry, resentful. Frank doesn’t really know what changed him exactly; what made him improve so fast, grow quickly out of the depression that had consumed day and night him for the past three years. At the end of the first week, he only had the urge to cut himself about once a day, give or take a few yearnings. This was amazing progress, since before he got to William James, Frank self-harmed about five times a day.

“So, Frank, what I’m asking for you is this- befriend Gerard. He has a long way to go before he gets better enough to be released. With you at his side, I am think he’ll recover much faster.”

Dr. Toro pauses again, allowing Frank to process this information and think about the offer. After a few moments, Dr. Toro quietly continues, “If you agree to stick by Gerard’s side, for the next three weeks, I promise you that end the end of all this, if it works, we’ll release the both of you.”

“Both of us?! But I’ve been here for almost four weeks! Another three, that means I’ll be here for almost two fucking months!” Frank knows cussing doesn’t make him look very calm and collected but, fuck it, he’s angry. Why should Gerard, the guy who just got all pissy at Frank without even thanking him for being nice to him on his first day, get to leave this place so much faster than Frank, when he’s not even doing any of the work by himself?!

“I understand this is a lot to ask of you, Frank. Of course, you can say no to this, and Gerard will be off of your hands. I just thought I would ask because I know how kind and caring of others you are. I thought that maybe you would ignore the unfairness of your situation and help someone so close to you in age out. I am sorry that I have upset you. You may leave, and please, enjoy Monday Movie Night.” Dr. Toro finishes, looking truly saddened by Frank’s reaction, his eyebrows furrowing.

Frank sighs, rubbing his forehead. He buries his face in his hands and, without looking up from the darkness of his palms, asks: “You say Gerard has a long way to go: why do you think it will only take three weeks for him to get out?”

He could feel Dr. Toro leaning forward earnestly. “His mother has agreed to pay for him to visit a therapist when he is let out of here, unlike yours, which is why we needed to have you stay here longer. We gave Gerard’s mom a list of therapists we thought would be best for Gerard up in New York, most of them agreeing to lower they prices a bit at our asking. For a woman who has the right to be so bitter, she seems to really care about making Gerard as best as he can be.” Dr. Toro’s voice turns soft and, again, sad. “If we can just get him on some meds, and get him to stay on them, and open up about his childhood- with your help, three weeks should be enough to help tame Gerard’s disorder.”  
Frank squeezes his eyes shut. Another three weeks; he had been so sure that he would be leaving this weekend. Was Gerard really worth another three weeks of his time at William James? Another three weeks away from a normal high school? Okay, he doesn’t really care about the high school part, but he still doesn’t like the idea of eating shitty cafeteria food and watching nature documentaries for another three weeks.

But then Frank thought of Gerard’s mother, who had to raise two sons all on her own. If teenage boys were hard to deal with, it must be downright infuriating to have to raise one with DID. Raising Gerard, who appeared to be the responsibility of two different people, must have been a nightmare, what with his mental state- and a younger son, who needed just as much care and attention as his brother was given. Frank made a mental note to thank and congratulate her for being so brave, if he ever met her.

“Fine.” Frank says, lifting his head heavily and meeting the wide and ecstatic eyes of Doctor Toro. “I’ll help him.”


	2. I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this chapter is mainly about Frank. I had originally intended for more stuff to happen after he talks about himself for a while, but I went on a lot longer than I expected, so I'm just going to put that other stuff in chapter three :$ please bear in mind that I am aware, and you should be too, that none of this is true! it's all made up in my head okay!! woo yeah so we've got that out of the way lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter :D comments/helpful criticism is always welcome, and let me know if you find any typos :P thanks for reading!

*** LATER THAT EVENING ***

“Well, _this_ is interesting.” Gerard mumbled sarcastically, earning a snort from Frank. They were standing towards the back of the Rec Room, shielded in the darkness of the unlit expanse from the eyes of the nearby nurses that were keeping _their_ eyes on the patients huddled around the large flat screen TV, watching tonight’s nature documentary.

“Yeah, Monday Movie Night fucking _blows._ ” Frank agreed quietly.

“Why do they make us watch such shitty films when there are actual quality movies out there?” Gerard’s voice is close in Frank’s ear; he could’ve sworn he even felt Gerard’s lips tickle his ear lobe lightly.

“Well, they’re probably afraid that any violence or profanity will trigger us –“ Frank was about to refer to them as ‘wackos’, but he remembered that Gerard is easily triggered over to his bad side; Frank caught himself before he uttered the word, and hurriedly continued, “– us… patients into doing something crazy. I dunno. I think that’s messed up, but it’s not like they actually care about our input, so…”

“I care about your input.” Gerard whispered, smiling kindly at Frank. Frank swallowed and looked away, completely aware of the uncomfortable heat climbing up his neck, the redness clashing with the pale tone of the skin on his face. Luckily, the room was quite black, so he didn’t _think_ Gerard could see him blushing like an idiot.

“So, ah, anyways- you wanna get out of here?” Frank whispered into Gerard’s ear.

Gerard’s eyebrows knitted together. He turned his head so that it was facing Frank’s; their faces were very close together, only separated by a few inches of space that Frank really wished weren’t there. “Could we really do that? Where would we go?” Gerard asked. Frank could feel his hot breath tickling his face.

“Yeah, dude, we can totally ditch. We’ll just go sit behind a tree or something in the courtyard. We can hear the TV from there, so we’ll know when the movie’s almost over, and we just slip back inside.”

“Won’t the guards notice us?”

“Nah, they usually fall asleep during these things; they’re _that_ fucking boring. Trust me, I’ve done it before. And,” Frank added, thinking of Doctor Toro’s new need for Frank at the hospital, “I have a feeling that if we _did_ get caught, we wouldn’t really get into any trouble.” Frank smiled, admiring his new power over the security and behavioral requirements at William James.

Frank and Gerard slip outside into the cool night air, gazing into the darkness around them. A few trees were visible, along with the benches along the perimeter of the courtyard.

"I can't really see much. Where should we go?" Gerard asks softly, squinting into the darkness.

Frank hums in thought. "Um...oh!" An idea pops into Frank's head, an idea he's never thought of before. How has he never tried this?! It's such a perfect place to go to hangout, be alone with your thoughts...

"Follow me." Frank grabs Gerard's arm, tugging him to their right- but before Frank can lead Gerard even a few inches over, his arm twists violently in Frank's grasp, whipping back and holding itself across his chest. Frank looks at Gerard, surprised and confused; Gerard's eyes are blazing with anger. Frank can see them glowing eerily in front of him, his mouth curved down in an annoyed frown.

"Please don't grab me like that." he whispers, keeping his eyes trained on Frank's.

"O- okay." Frank swallows, nodding. Alright, no grabbing. Why, though? Does it remind him of something... something from his childhood? Frank makes a mental note to tell Doctor Toro about this discovery later.

"Um, follow me?" this time Frank poses this as a question, making sure Gerard knows he isn't being forced to go with Frank. Thankfully, Gerard smiles and nods vigorously, waiting for Frank to lead the way.

He turns on his heel, treading slowly and quietly over to the large air conditioning units that rest against the tall brick wall of the hospital. They reach about all the way up to Frank's waste, due to his petit size. He motions for Gerard, who draws nearer to Frank, awaiting his command for action.

"Okay, I want you to get onto this AC box thing and grab onto the gutter and lift yourself up. Really quietly, though, cause they might hear us inside." Gerard looks at Frank nervously, clearly doubting if he'll be able complete Frank's request. "I promise it won't be hard, and you won't hurt yourself. I'll help you get up and over as soon as you start lifting yourself, okay? Just tell me when you're about to start pulling up."

Gerard swallows and nods again, climbing onto the buzzing AC box and slowly straightening his legs. Frank watches as he carefully places his hands onto the leaf-filled gutter, pushing on it lightly. He turns his head and looks down at Frank, concern visible in his bright eyes. "I don't think the gutter can hold my weight."

"Okay, just grab onto the roof, then." Gerard turns back around, lifting his hands onto the rough concrete of the hospital roof. He exhales slowly, then sucks in a quick breath of air and lifts himself up, to where his feet are no longer touching the AC box.

“Okay, be quiet, dude, we can’t let them hear us up here, okay? Just let your legs hang limp and hold on, I’m coming up…” Frank climbed up onto the silver box, crouched low so that his legs made a 90 degree angle. He wrapped his arms around Gerard’s thick thighs, pursing his lips in effort and hoisting Gerard up and onto the roof so that he was lying on his stomach.

“You okay?” Frank asked, squinting up at Gerard, whose body was outlined by the ominous glow of moonlight.

“Yeah- here, grab onto my hands, I’ll help you up-“ Gerard repositioned his body so that he was facing down towards Frank; they’re hands clasped together tightly, and Gerard used all the muscles in his arms to pull Frank onto the roof, who struggled dangerously in the air for a few moments. His legs flailed about him, trying to get a grip on the brick wall.

“Quit wiggling me!” he hissed, glaring up at Gerard.

“That’s not me, that you, asshole!”

 Finally, Frank’s feet stuck firmly to the wall; he pushed up, his thighs burning from the weight he was pulling. Frank wasn’t at all overweight; he just wasn’t in good shape. The only exercise he’d gotten in the past few years was walking back and forth between the kitchen and his bedroom. 

Frank collapsed onto the roof with a grunt. He felt the burn of coarse concrete scraping against his elbow in the process of being dragged safely away from the ledge of the roof by Gerard. Once settled down, Frank sat upright, leaning back on his palms and focusing his attention on the clear night sky. He tried not to whimper at the pain in his elbow; he feared Gerard might laugh or call him a fucking pansy.

“Sit down, Gerard, whatcha standing for?” he asked, cocking his head at Gerard, who loomed next to Frank with his hands on his hips. He shook his head as though clearing away his thoughts and bent down next to Frank, his knees making popping sounds as he squatted down.

Frank placed a hand on Gerard’s knees, lightly pushing down; Gerard took the hint, finally relaxing and mimicked Frank’s position.

Frank sighed, removing his palms from the roof and settling down on his back, interlacing his fingers underneath his head. He smiled up at the starry blackness above him, flicking his tongue against his lip ring. Gerard looked down at Frank, smiling as well.

“It’s really nice up here.” He said, his tone so soft Frank had trouble hearing what he said.

“Yeah. I love it. It’s so much better than watching a two hour movie on plants in the Indian Ocean or whatever. I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate nature or anything but c’mon, we’re not in high school anymore; I put up with shit like that for four fucking years, I shouldn’t have to revisit any of it in here.”

Gerard chuckled softly. “Yeah, I know.” He flopped down on his back, flinging his arms under his head. Frank felt his elbow against his, their rough skin making warm contact. “We’re not gonna have one of those stupid conversations about deep shit like the meaning of life and stuff, right?” Gerard joked.

Frank snorted, rolling his eyes. “God, no. Does it really look like I’m that type of person to you?”

Gerard turned his head to the left, his eyes roaming over Frank’s face. He pursed his lips, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe. I think you could be pretty deep. But not, like, annoying; just really wise. You could go on and on about all this amazing stuff for hours, theories and shit, and it’d never get annoying.

“At least, that’s what you _seem_ like.” Gerard added with a smirk.

Frank twisted his neck towards Gerard’s face, regretfully tearing his gaze from the twinkling stars. “What makes you think that?”

Gerard grinned and rolled onto his side, lifting up an arm and resting it against the roof, cupping his chin in his palm. “I dunno. You’re just so calm- all the time. You seem really mature; you talk like it, at least. Like you really know what you’re saying, always.” He smiled down at Frank, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Frank started to lose concentration; he felt like he was drowning, drowning in the way the stars were reflected in Gerard’s beautiful hazel eyes, but he didn’t mind that he was drowning, if anything it was welcomed and pleasant because his fucking _eyes_ were just staring right back-

“Frank?”

“What?” Frank blinked, realizing that he’d been staring at Gerard for the past minute with his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes had glazed over, making him look like a fucking zombie. Frank hastily brought a hand to his mouth, checking to see if he’d been drooling; he felt no wetness of saliva, but still silently cursed himself for acting like such an idiot.

“So, are you going to tell me or what?” Gerard asked, making a pouty face.

“Tell you what?” Frank honestly had no idea what Gerard was going on about.

Gerard chuckled again, low and deep; the delightful sound caused Frank to erupt in a fit of giggles. Their giggling escalated to laughter bursting straight from the depths of their bellies, coming out in short, choked spurts. They rolled around, swatting at each other’s arms. Neither of the two men knew what was so funny, but goddamn, it was fucking hilarious.

“Oh- oh – oh my God,” Gerard gasped out, wiping tears from his eyes.

“What- the- _fuck?!”_ Frank giggled, clutching at the stitch in his side.

“I don’t even know!” Gerard sat up again, pulling his knees up and draping his arms around them. “What were we laughing at?” he grinned up at the sky, as if asking God.

Frank looked up as well, still suppressing chuckles. “I don’t know, dude. You asked me something and then- well- you know the rest.”

“Oh, yeah!” Gerard positioned his body so that he was facing Frank again. He bent over and rested his chin against his forearm, viewing Frank from atop his knees. “How did you wind up here in the first place?”

“Oh.” Frank had no idea _that_ was Gerard’s question. He licks his lips, not meeting Gerard’s eyes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me.” Gerard whispers softly, scrunching his eyebrows together. “I just wanted to get to know you a little better. I’m sorry.”

Frank rolled to his side, staring into Gerard’s eyes- which, he noticed, were filled with concern. “Nah, dude, it’s okay. I’ve just never talked about it to anyone accept Doctor Toro; you just kind of caught me off guard.”

“Not even your parents? You never talked about it with them?”

Frank’s throat constricted. “My- uh-“ he was having trouble breathing, and his words were coming out choppy and incoherent. _Fuck, why’d he have to ask about that?_

“My mom died in childbirth, and my dad ditched me pretty soon after. I’ve been living with my grandparents since I started pre-school.”

“Oh… oh, God. I’m so sorry, Frank- I really fucking am.” Gerard’s voice is gentle and hurt, and Frank can tell that he truly is sorry. Gerard’s lips are turned down at the corners, and his forehead is creased with concern.

Frank shrugs his appologies off and exhales slowly, now contemplating how to regale Gerard with the tale of his fucked up life. He knows he needs to be careful, though; they were on a fucking roof, and if he did anything to set Gerard off, something really dangerous could happen.

“Well…. when I first got here, Doctor Toro told me I’d been depressed since the start of my freshman year, after I’d told him about all my years of high school so far. I thought I’d just been sad then, or at least really stressed out like any high schooler, right? But apparently I had depression pretty bad, even then.” Frank blew out a sigh, staring pointedly at his stretched out legs. “We found out that it wasn’t genetic, my depression. It was mostly triggered from… um…” Frank glances up at Gerard, who’s watching Frank with a troubled expression.

“Keep going, Frank, I’m listening…” Gerard murmurs this quietly, gently probing Frank to continue. In response, Frank purses his lips tightly and shakes his head, looking down and picking at a hang nail on his finger.

“Never mind, it’s stupid, you don’t want to hear it. Trust me.”

“Frank.” Gerard waits until Frank hesitantly lifts his gaze up to meet Gerard’s.

“I care, Frank. I care about your life _and_ your depression. I _do_ want to hear about it.”

 Gerard’s words, uttered so softly, sounded so fucking genuine that Frank nearly reached out to wrap Gerard in a much needed hug. The only people in his life so far who had ever shown a sign of interest in Frank were the nurses who had kept him alive in the critical stages of his suicide attempt, and Doctor Toro. His grandparents? Well, the night he had tried to kill himself, his grandfather had been out playing poker at the local old-people club, and his grandma was somewhere downstairs knitting a sweater or some shit. When she came upstairs to check on Frank, and found him lying in a pool of his own bile on his bedroom floor, she’d reacted out of instinct. She saw that he was dying, and dying was messy; so she cleaned it up. Pulled the problem off the sticky carpet and dragged it into her rickety car, minutes later handing it off to strangers in white lab coats who dance to the beeping of heart monitors. His grandparents seemed bothered, in fact, that since he had survived the attempt, they would now have to work on helping him “get better”; Frank knew that his death would have meant less paperwork and therapist calls to them- his survival was just an unwelcome workload.

Frank swallowed slowly; his tongue seemed to hold the weight of a block of lead. _Should I really open up to Gerard? He’s not like Doctor Toro, who has to keep a completely objective viewpoint on everything I say; he’s going to pass judgments on these things I tell him. Is he really worth that?_

Franks can see it, plain and simple, that Gerard cares about him. Why should he pass up such an opportunity to share what he’s been dying to say to someone else his age for so long; someone else who might even have a small understanding of what he’s going through? Why be so stubborn and hold all his fucking pain in?

After a few moments of deep thinking, Frank tells Gerard.

Everything.

Not necessarily a timeline of his high school life; he describes, briefly, that his depression was moderate in ninth and tenth grade- pretty bad in his junior year (in which he got beat up most of the time by the football team for being a ‘gay-ass faggot’) - and how his depression hit its climax when senior year started, when all the stress from school was just _too fucking much_. Good grades, clubs, sports, volunteer work- the pressure of meeting all of the criteria in these categories to get into another fucking  _school_ was enough to push Frank to his limit- what with graduation looming in the visible distance and the threat of his grandparents kicking him out of the house once he hit eighteen in October. They didn’t, thankfully; but the grumpy old pair _did_ feel much freer (perhaps even obligated) to tell him what a waste of space he was, now that he was an official ‘man’.

He told Gerard about how he started cutting himself in freshman year, and quickly developed an addiction to it. By the start of senior year he had more scars on his body than hairs on his head; at least it looked that way to Frank. But he kept them all well concealed under long sleaves in loose fitting jeans. Yes, this attire got very hot and uncomfortable in the summer- but without the layers of clothing, Frank would be completely exposed to the eyes of the judemental assholes who would surely make fun of him for his self harm or call him a "freak", and Frank really couldn't take any more alienation from the world.

Gerard nodded the whole way through this, though frowning slightly. His attention was fully devoted to Frank, which came as a shock to him; he was only used to Dr. Toro listening to Frank, occasionally reaching up a hand to scratch his huge head of hair. To see Gerard like that, listening to and hanging on his every word, was enough to keep Frank going for what seemed like hours.

Frank described how his abandonment issues had followed him his whole life. His mother hadn’t intended to leave him, which brought him some piece of mind, but his dad- _his_ absence was done with the intention of never coming back, although Frank dearly needed him. With that constantly sitting in the back of his mind, every time Frank made a friend, he learned to prepare himself for their dismissal of his friendship at any given time. And they always did; there was no question whether or not they would leave him- it was simply a matter of time.

“I guess, when high school came along, that’s when I stopped even trying to befriend people. I just accepted that I was - and always would be - alone. And you know what, Gerard?” Frank looks fiercely into Gerard’s eyes, anger building up inside his stomach, crawling up into his chest. “It fucking _sucked._ To know that _no one_ out of the billions of people in the world needed you- no one, not even your own fucking _family._ ” Gerard didn’t even nod this time, for it was unneeded. Frank’s guts were spewing out of his mouth in a messy, verbal vomit that he knew he would not be able to clean up. And Gerard was completely okay that it was getting all over him.

“That’s really when this- this darkness started to form around me. It filtered into my mind, surrounding it in this fucking cloud- and then it expanded out of my pores, out of every fucking _orifice_ of my body. This blackness, it was with me all day, all night. In my dreams. It was there to remind me that I was just as useless as I’d always been told; it stood there to represent how empty my fucking life was. It was like, sometimes, I could even see my reflection in it, if I looked hard enough- and I just saw this fucking monster looking back.” As Frank described how he saw himself, his voice would catch in his throat; an annoying mist clouded his vision, but he ignored it, plowing on through the emotional pain that was stabbing into his very heart. “I was this fucking… twisted, constricted, messed up little shell of what I used to be when I was happy. I was all shriveled and vile looking; it made me want to fucking rip off my head and just lay there, bleeding and _die._ I got so overwhelmed- that new creature was always by my side, always with me, whispering to me that I was just a fucking screw up, and nothing more. Assuring me that, if I were to be gone, wiped from the face of the Earth- _no one would care._ So, one day, I finally heeded its advice- mind you, my _own_ advice- and did it. I tried to kill myself by downing a bottle of my grandparents sleeping pills.”

Frank exhaled a long, deep breath- what felt like the first he’d taken in hours. He knew he’d been talking for a while, and when he started talking about his physical self, Frank couldn’t even meet Gerard’s eyes. He’d been staring at his feet the last few minutes, furiously wiping away at the salty tear drops that managed to spill forth from his eyelids and trail down his cheeks.

“Gerard- that was the worst part. To know that I was so bad at everything, I couldn’t even _kill myself_ correctly. I was _that_ big of a failure. I think I would’ve done it again, you know- tried to off myself again, if I had gotten admitted here any later. And- and sometimes- that scares the fucking _shit_ out of me. That I was so close to doing it again. Like, I feel ‘happy’ and what not here; I feel like a real person again. But what happens when I go back to the real world- high school? When all that pressure comes back to me, and I don’t have the protection of the doctors and nurses here- the shelter from the ugly world that I’m given here? What if I… what if I try to kill myself again?”

Gerard doesn’t say anything for a long time. With each passing moment of silence between the two, with only the sounds of the buzzing locusts to fill in the lack of noise, Frank grows ever more anxious to hear Gerard’s response. He’s been talking for, God, fucking _hours_ it feels like. Did Gerard just get bored and tune Frank out halfway through?

_Probably, you asshole, you’ve been whining about your stupid problems for the last, like, ten fucking years. You knew he didn’t really care right from the beginning, and now you’re going to suffer the embarrassment of spilling your worthless guts like that._

Frank is shocked at himself. He hasn’t called himself worthless since his first week at William James. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind, convincing himself that he didn’t really mean it.

Frank suddenly feels a hand place itself lightly on his back. He starts, blinking out of his thoughts and realizing that Gerard had moved next to him. He rubbed his eyes furiously, hoping that there are no signs of crying on his face anymore. Frank looked at Gerard, confused as to why he had moved right up against Frank, and why he now had his whole left arm slung around his shoulders; his hand gripped Frank’s shoulder blade in comfort, and he could feel Gerard’s thumb tenderly rubbing back and forth through the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you, Frank, for confiding all of that in me. I know it took a lot out of you to say all that; to remember it all. But, Frank, from what I’ve seen: you’re fucking _amazing._ After being here from barely a month, you’ve almost fully recovered from major fucking depression! That’s like, fucking impossible. You’re _strong,_ Frank. After having people constantly leave you you’re whole life, especially the ones you needed the most, I would’ve cracked _way_ before you did. You’re so brave, Frank, and you don’t even know it. I think you’re going to be just fine back out there- back in high school. Don’t worry about the grades, the extracurricular shit, Frank- it’s fucking pointless anyways. Humans have a natural _want_ to be taught. To absorb new information. You’ll learn when you feel it best fitted.” Gerard looked into Frank’s eyes, really looked into them, trying to communicate something that couldn’t be put into words.

Their faces merely inches away, Gerard spoke softly: “Live life for _yourself_ , Frank, and not for those who don’t even deserve the honor of knowing you.” Frank swallowed, still staring into Gerard’s golden-flecked eyes, searching for answers he didn’t even know the questions to.

“I won’t leave you, Frank- I swear. I will never leave you. We’re in this together now, okay? We’re in this fucked up world together- nothing’s going to tear us apart. I fucking swear it.” Gerard used his free hand to draw an ‘x’ over his heart, smiling warmly at Frank. He was smiling, yes, but the words he’d just uttered had purpose and meaning- he meant them so much it physically hurt him. They didn’t know it, but they really were in this together now- them against the world. Against pain. Against abandonment. Against  sickness.

Against all the fucking sadness that plagues the minds of those who don’t even deserve it.


	3. Come one angel, don't you cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeee thanks to my rockin' beta PONKRUCK!! (go check out her account kkk)   
> So there really isn't much to say about this chapter, except for the usual comments are much appreciated blah balh aBAHL and please let me know if you find any weird typos n.n thank you so much for reading! chapter four will be up sometime next week :D

The next day, a bright Tuesday afternoon, Frank Gerard were sitting against the huge oak tree during Outside Rec, having just eaten lunch. They were silent for a while; not because they were unsure of what to say, but they just didn't feel it necessary to jump right into awkward small talk. It was easy for them to be around each other, because nothing was hesitant or rushed- much like Carl, they spoke to each other when they had something worthwhile to say or ask.

Gerard raised an arm that gleamed pearly white in the mid-morning sun, and pointed to the center of the courtyard. "What's that?" he asked quizzically.

Frank glanced in the direction Gerard's finger led to, and found his eyes resting on the familiar sight of the gray stone statue of a crying angel. The angel – which Frank thought looked like a male – had its small arms draped over a large, gray head stone. The angel’s head was bowed, it's face pulled together in a mask of terrible grief. Looking at the statue always made Frank sad, so he averted his eyes from it as much as he could.

"I asked the same thing to Doctor Toro when I first got here." Frank replies quietly. "He told me that it's an angel crying on the grave of a suicide victim. The angel is crying because he's sad that the person is gone; sad because it wasn't they're time to go."

Gerard looks amazed. "Wow. I think it's really great that he put that here. Kinda shows that everyone is missed when they die, right?"

Frank shrugs. "It shows a lot of things. It means whatever you want, however you want to interpret it. Like, for me, when I see it, I think that the headstone is mine- the angel is crying on _my_ grave. It's a reminder for me of what would've happened if I'd actually died that night. It kind of keeps me grounded." Gerard nods, now looking a bit sorrowful.

Frank continues, "I don't think any angels would cry on my grave, though. It would just sit there, getting dusty – untouched, never being looked at, no one even reading the name on the headstone. I wouldn't get any mourners, let alone angels."

Gerard looks at Frank, now looking deeply hurt. "I'd cry, Frank. If you died. I may be no important angel, but I'd definitely cry..."

Frank swallows, surprised at Gerard's somber words. "Huh. That really means a lot, Gerard – thanks." Gerard gives Frank a small smile, then returns his gaze to the statue. They remain that way for the rest of Outside Rec, both Frank and Gerard too lost in their own thoughts to say much else.

***

A few days had now passed since Frank and Gerard’s night under the stars. Frank had been showing Gerard the ropes of William James; introducing him – whether or not face to face – to the other patients, and helping him get comfortable at the hospital. The mundane, repetitive activities that had been beginning to feel chore-like were now exciting and fun for Frank- at least, now that he had Gerard to do them with.

A particularly enjoyable afternoon was that of the coming Thursday, while Frank and Gerard were in Arts and Crafts class. The term ‘class’ doesn’t quite define the hour-long period accurately- it’s more of a do-what-you-want-as-long-as-it’s-appropriate-and-quiet session.

This was their first and only Arts and Crafts time of the week, for most of their activities were once-a-week operations; William James liked lots of variety. Gerard and Frank had settled down at an empty table together, filling up the two chairs across from each other and grinning sheepishly just for the sheer act of smiling at each other.

“Welcome, everyone!” Cynthia called out to the small room of disinterested looking patients. Unlike Gerard, whose face was a mask of excitement, everybody else in the room had been to this class before and already learned that it wasn’t much of a joy – if you didn’t like art, at least. Frank had no idea Gerard would get so worked up over this class; he noticed Gerard’s wide eyes and upturned lip corners as he watched Cynthia spread a toothy grin across the span of the room.

“Today we’ll be working on abstract art. Can someone tell me what _abstract_ is?”  

Gerard kept his eyes trained on Cynthia, his attentive gaze travelling down her short blonde locks, but he didn’t raise a hand – although Frank was quite sure that Gerard knew the answer. He could just see it in his golden-flecked eyes.

From the nearest table to Frank and Gerard, Dane raised his arm hesitantly. Cynthia beamed down at him, gliding over and placing a delicate hand on his back.

“What is abstract art, Dane?”

Dane coughed, looking around nervously. “Uh… it’s art that’s kind of different and stuff. All messy and weird, but it still looks good?”

“Yes! Very spot on, Dane, good job.” Cynthia patted Dane’s back, whose mouth spread into a grin. He glanced over in Frank’s direction to see if he was watching, but Frank was staring down at his bouncing foot, his face a mask of utter boredom. Dane’s mouth curled into an angry frown, and he raised his voice to speak again, interrupting Cynthia’s proper explanation of abstract art.

“You know, Cynthia- Baum told tells me a lot about modern day art culture. He says that if I’m going to save the world, you know, I have to know how to entrance humanoids all across the globe, and a very effective way to do that is to paint abstract naked pictures of –“

“Thank you, Dane, but your first definition was enough for today. Now, as I was saying…” Frank had still not looked up from his foot, which he was now moving in weird motions and twirls (unknown to Dane, he was spelling out the words ‘everyone hates me, I hate all of you’). Dane slammed his fist furiously on the paint-stained table top, standing up fiercely and kicking his chair back.

“What do I have to do to get you to notice me?!” he shouted, spreading his arms out wide, looking hurtfully at Frank – who finally looked up, taking sight of Dane’s stance and looking confused.

“What…?” he asked, brows furrowed together.

And suddenly, Dane burst into a fit of tears – the scene was unfortunately comical, actually. He plopped himself down one checker-tiled floor, burying his face in his shaking hands and rocking back and forth. Within moments, two large men in dark matching outfits swept Dane into their arms, leading him to the door and out into the hallway, where they disappeared from sight. Cynthia plowed on with her abstract art mini-lesson, acting as though Dane hadn’t just had a fucking mental breakdown in the middle of her class.

Frank turned to Gerard and whispered, “What did I do?” Gerard shrugged, giving Frank a face that said “beats me, man”, and returned his attentive stare to Cynthia.

“Now, I’d like all of you to grab your colored pencils or paint brushes and begin sketching what you think abstract art looks like.”

Kat, the disruptive girl from Frank’s Monday Group, loudly called out without raising her hand, “What are we supposed to draw?” Her face was twisted into an expression of utmost annoyance.

“Anything you want. It could be a nature, like a tree or the ocean – or people– or animals… whatever you like, as long as you make it abstract.” Kat rolled her eyes at this response, turning back around in her chair and glaring at the blank sheet of paper in front of her.

“Well, this is going to be fucking – oh…” Frank turned back to Gerard, attempting to discuss what he thought of the next hour ahead, when he took notice of Gerard, who had already begun his drawing. His head was bent down only inches from his hand, which was sketching long, elegant lines that looked to be the shape of a person’s head.

Realizing that Gerard looked very into his drawing, Frank closed his mouth and began toying with his lip ring, thinking of what to draw. Quickly, he grew frustrated, and began to sketch an image of a group of angry rabbits stepping on the head of man lying on the floor – all beings in the drawing were bloody and angry looking, of course. Frank soon etched out the man on the floor’s face to be of his – at least, as best as he could. Frank was a far better guitar player than artist, which he calmly accepted – but on the other hand, Gerard looked to be a fucking _fantastic a_ rtist.

“Woah… that’s fucking cool, dude,” Frank’s voice was low as he pressed his chest into the table, leaning closer to get a better look at Gerard’s ‘abstract art’.

Gerard's sketch was unlike anything Frank had ever seen before. It was definitely abstract, for sure – at least, in Frank's eyes it was. The person Gerard had drawn was sitting down, with their legs folded in a way that made them look much smaller than the upper body – which was stretched out vertically, looking slightly grotesque. The person's back was hunched forward, and their head bowed, with messily sketched hands covering their elongated face. Small red droplets seeped through the knobby fingers – Frank supposed they were supposed to be tears... of blood?

Long strands of blonde hair hung around the face of the crying character, hiding their down-turned head from the rest of the world. Gerard's hand was now swiping a black pencil around the outer blankness of the page, making faceless bodies that peered out at the character, ghoulishly surrounding him with eerily wide eyes and gaunt faces. From the way their mouths were parted, and cheeks hollowed, it looked as though they were whispering things to the crying man.

“Fuck, Gerard…. That’s _really_ good.” Frank muttered, staring at Gerard’s artwork with an open mouth.

Gerard grinned, his hand ceasing its motions as he looked up at Frank. “You really think so?”

“Uh, _yeah._ This is, like, fucking amazing, dude – how long have you able to draw this good?”

Gerard shrugged, bowing his head down to the paper again as he began to do light shading in between the white spaces of the bodiless faces. “I dunno… since high school? That’s when I started drawing start for, ya know, leisure. I never thought I was good, though… it was always just fun, and it kind of turned into a hobby, I guess.”

“Well, geez, dude- this is amazing, and you spent like, ten minutes on it. Who is that, anyways?” Frank inquired, cocking his head at the picture.

“Oh – the man on the floor? That’s, ah… that’s Dane.” Gerard’s neck grew a little red, and he averted his hazel eyes from Frank’s curious brown ones.

“Oh… oh, I get it. Cause he was crying earlier, right? I wonder what that was all about. I feel like I kind of caused it, though – but I don’t know why I made him cry. I hope he’s okay…” Gerard nodded and shrugged, biting the corner of his lip, looking as though he was itching to add more to his drawing.

“But why are there those creepy demon things around him?” Frank pointed a finger to the faces watching Dane.

“Those are supposed to be the people that haunt him – haunt his mind, you know. Obviously Dane hears voices, and I feel really bad about it… it’s like, I thought my problems were bad, but I see him and other patients even worse than him, and it makes me feel so fucking selfish, you know?”

Frank looks at Gerard, sensing that his mood was taking a turn for the worse. “Hey, man – I felt the exact same way like, all of my life. But… saying that you can’t have problems because someone else out there has it worse than you… is like saying that you can’t ever be happy, because someone else is happier than you.”

Gerard looked up at Frank for the first time in minutes, his pink lips upturned just a bit, in a tiny smile that had a lot more behind it than Frank could see. Gerard licked his lips, and mumbled, “You’re pretty smart, Frank.”

Frank’s cheeks flushed red, and he shrugged Gerard’s compliment off, staring down at his killer rabbits drawing, which he now realized looked like a kindergartener had drawn. Annoyed at his lack of artistic skill, he crumbled his paper up and tossed it in a nearby recycle bin.

“Can… can I keep that picture, Gerard?” he asked, hoping that his request didn’t come off too weird.

“Sure!” Gerard grinned again, sliding the picture over to Frank- but stopping half way across the table and jerking it back to himself. “Wait, one second.” He scribbled furiously on the bottom right corner of the paper, then slid it over to Frank, looking pleased with himself. Frank cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Gerard and looked down at the paper.

Gerard has scrawled his full name in loopy, cursive letters – but due to the fact that the name isn’t supposed to be huge, it barley even looked like English.

“What was that for?” Frank asked with a playful tone, but really curious as to why Gerard had signed his name.

“That’s for when I’m a famous a _rteest” –_ Gerardadded an odd French dialect to the word ‘artist’, smiling coyly – “so you can put this up on Ebay and make tons of money off of me.”

“If I was literally up to my hairline in debt” – Frank stuck a hand up to his forehead, like he was saluting Gerard – “I wouldn’t sell this, or any of the other artwork I _know_ you’re going to give me later on, for a million bucks.”

Gerard sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Then you’re an idiot.”

Frank laughed, holding the piece of paper in his hands and grinning widely at it. “Yeah, but I’ll be an idiot with an awesome art collection.”

***

Later that evening, while Frank and Gerard were eating dinner with Carl and a few other William James patients, a mall security guard approached Frank and told him Dr. Toro wanted to see him in his office. Frank had left the table, shooting Gerard a nervous glance as he went – he wasn’t sure what this meeting was about, but he hoped he wouldn’t hear any bad news. Did Dr. Toro know that Gerard and Frank had ditched Monday Movie Night? Was he maybe really fucking pissed about them climbing on the roof?

These paranoid thoughts still buzzed around Frank’s head as he entered the doctor’s cozy office; he seated himself on the edge of the leather chair, jiggling both his knees anxiously.

“Evening, Frank!” Doctor Toro said cheerily, turning away from his computer screen. Frank breathed a sigh of relief, completely sure that nothing bad was going on.

“Hi.” Frank said, smiling happily.

“So, how was Monday Movie Night?” This question was delivered with an even tone – it sounded as though Dr. Toro was genuinely interested in how Monday night had gone. But his sly, mischievous smile gave away his ominous knowledge of Frank’s life at William James.

“Shit.” Frank muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

Dr. Toro chuckled. “No need to curse, Frank, I’m not mad. I’m glad you and Gerard made it off the roof safely. Was it a nice view of the sky? As I recall, it was quite starry on Monday; it must have been beautiful to look at.”

Frank nodded vigorously. “It was gorgeous. And, uh, thanks for not getting mad… sorry.”

The doctor waved a large hand that, Frank noticed with a smile, looked similar to that of a bear’s paw. “Don’t be sorry, Frank – just make sure you two are safe, okay? I believe in giving the pair of you the freedoms you require, but I want to make sure you’re taking advantage of those freedoms with care. Tread wearily with Gerard, Frank – we’re still unsure of when he may Phase, and why… “

Frank leaned forward, resting his hands on the shiny desk in front of him. “I know, I know— I’m working on it, Dr. Toro, I promise. Gerard’s been fine for the past few days, though… but as soon as something happens, I’ll let you know.”

Dr. Toro nodded, looking somber. The subject of Gerard’s phasing did not please either of the two, but they both knew that they would make no progress in helping Gerard if he didn’t have more of his personality switches.

“Since Gerard and you are separated for a fairly significant amount of the day; during Rest Time in the both night and afternoon – I would like for you to move into Gerard’s room. He doesn’t have a roommate, and I think adding you in there might expose you to the more personal side of Gerard, which could and probably will be very useful in helping us figure out the source of his DID.”

“What about… what about Dane? I mean, I’m perfectly happy with rooming with Gerard, but Dane… I dunno. I worry about him.” Frank’s tongue poked out and flicked his tongue ring, as sort of a replacement for biting his lip in thought.

“Ah, yes – Dane. Oh, Dane. He really is a curious case. Of course, his file information is confidential, but I can tell you this – from what Dane has told me, he has developed an unhealthy… obsession with you. This interest in you, Frank, seems to be growing – increasing more, actually, since Gerard has gotten here. I think he feels threatened by Gerard, for a reason I do not yet understand. I think it would be a healthy change if the two of you were given some space from each other, and allow Dane some time alone to himself – we’ll also be switching him over to Tuesday Group.” Frank cringed at this, now feeling _really_ sorry for Dane – he knew that Tuesday Group was as close to a living nightmare that you would get at William James, and he wasn’t sure if Dane had the strength to not fall apart over there.

“The more he’s around you, the more he seems to forget why he’s even here in the first place.” Dr. Toro added softly, looking deeply into Frank’s eyes. _Dr. Toro knows what he’s doing; I have to trust him, and let him do whatever he thinks is best for Dane._

 

Of course, Frank wasn’t surprised any by the knowledge being given to him. He had been 90% sure that Dane had… _feelings_ for him; those thoughts were merely being confirmed by Doctor Toro. Although he was a little creeped out – not by the gay aspect of it, but that Dane hadn’t even known Frank for a month and already seemed to be emotionally dependent on him – but he felt bad for the kid. Frank understood what it was like to have a crush on someone who, no matter what you fucking did, just _did not feel the same fucking way._ He wished he could help Dane somehow – help him get over his feelings for Frank, and start focusing more on his own mental stability. But if space was what he needed from Frank right now, then Frank would have to settle for that.

“I’ve ordered for your belongings to be moved to Gerard’s room while we were conversing in here; when you leave, you can return to Outside Rec, and then get officially settled into your new room. Sound good?” Frank nodded. “Any questions?” Frank shook his head and was dismissed; he made his way outside, where he found Gerard leaning against the big oak tree they had now claimed as their own. Frank looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Dane – but the mysterious boy was nowhere in sight.

“What did Dr. Toro have to say?” Gerard asked, leaning forward and staring up at Frank with wide, shining eyes.

Frank kneeled down next to Gerard, leaning his head back against the cool bark of the tree and blowing out a heavy breath.

“Just checking up on me.”

***

It was after Lights Out now. Insects buzzed in the trees and grass outside, their nocturnal noises filtering in through the window of Frank and Gerard’s room. Frank was lying on his back, staring up at the dark abyss of the ceiling above him, with his hands folded on his belly. He could hear Gerard’s even breathing across the room, giving away that Gerard was already asleep. _Damn, he falls asleep fast. I’m pretty sure I was supposed to talk to him about life or some shit – anything to get me further into his childhood, or wherever the fuck his disorder started._

Frank doesn’t _just_ want to talk to Gerard about his personal life so he can deliver the information to Doctor Toro; he’s genuinely interested in the high schooler’s screwed up life. He was hoping that maybe tonight they would have one of those bro-to-bro talks – but, apparently, that wasn’t going to be happening. _Whatever,_ Frank shrugged; _I’ve still got a ton of time._

After a few moments of trying to force his body to fall asleep, Frank throws his hands against the bed in exasperation. For some reason, tonight, he was fucking wide awake – and it pissed him off, because he was _really_ tired.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Frank’s hand slowly drifted over his stomach, trailing down the line of hair below his navel that led to the hem of his boxers. His fingers hovered there for a moment, and then slid their way under the soft material.

Frank hadn’t jacked off for the whole four weeks of being at William James; he couldn’t do it in the bathroom or showers because there was always _somebody_ around; and he couldn’t get off in his room, because Dane was always in the bed merely ten feet away.

But Frank was so goddamn frustrated and tired tonight, and suddenly _needing_ to get off like he needed air – and, well, Gerard was definitely asleep, so why the fuck not?

Frank grabbed his dick, pulling at it roughly and _goddamn,_ it had been _too_ long since Frank had done this. Flicking his thumb over the head, Frank shuddered and moaned in pleasure. He hadn’t felt this good in so fucking long; Frank literally had to bite down on his lip to keep from groaning too loudly.

His pumps grew faster and faster, and he knew he was making a shit ton of noise under his sheets but he didn’t fucking c _are_ because everything felt so goddamn _amazing_ and he could feel it building in his stomach, that overwhelming heat, he was loosing his grasp on reality, he was on another fucking planet, _fuck,_ he was going to—

“Go away!” Gerard grunted harshly.

_Oh, shit._

“Gerard?” Frank whispered, his voice raw and broken, taking his hand off his dick and shuddering from the rush of cold air.

Frank turned on his left side so that he was facing Gerard’s side of the room; he closed his legs tightly, desperately forcing his boner to go away.

Gerard gave no response, so Frank whispered again, a little louder, “Hey, Gerard? Are you okay?”

Still, nothing. No verbal answer, at least. Gerard whipped around furiously, so that he was facing the wall, his body curled up in a fetal position.

“I said _go away!”_ Gerard’s voice broke at the end of the sentence in the sound of bare desperation.

_Oh, he’s having a nightmare._

Gerard kept begging someone unknown to Frank to ‘go away’ or ‘leave me alone’; Frank couldn’t bear to hear Gerard sounding so hurt and fucking _scared_ like that for a moment longer, so he quietly exited his bed and padded over to Gerard’s, sitting down delicately at the foot of the bed. He waited silently for Gerard to mumble something again; this time it was ‘ _Please_ stop it!”. He leaned forward a bit, peering over at Gerard’s face; Frank’s lips parted in surprise at what he next saw.

Gerard was crying.

Tears that glinted in the moonlight streaming through the window trailed down Gerard’s face. It was weird for Frank for two reasons: one, he had never seen a man cry before. Sure, he himself had cried lots of times during his depression, but that was _Frank;_ it wasn’t uncharted territory for him. It wasn’t weird for him to take sight of his own tear stained face in the mirror. And two, because Gerard hadn’t seemed like much of a crier to Frank; more like someone who lashes out, both physically and verbally, when they’re angry or upset. Frank didn’t know what to do – even though Gerard was fucking _asleep_ he still had no idea how to comfort someone who was crying. Nothing ever seemed to satisfy anyone who was in tears; if you told them it would be okay, they’d wail “NOT IT’S NOT!”, and if you tried to offer gentle words of your own story that were supposed to make them feel better about their problems, they would just glare at you in disgust and say, “You don’t even fucking _know._ ” Of course, Frank had never been the one crying in this situation; he never cried in front of anyone, never exposed his own raw emotion like that, after a night at the end of freshman year while at the dinner table with his grandparents. He had a huge fucking breakdown and started sobbing uncontrollably while eating his cold pasta. They’d told him what a waste of time crying and feeling sorry for yourself was, and that Frank should be ashamed to be feeling that way at all. It had been an embarrassing mess, and he’d made an internal promise that he would never humiliate himself like that again.

 As Gerard muttered despairingly again, Frank gently put his hand on his roommate’s calf, which he could dimly make out through the few layers of sheets covering Gerard’s body. He squeezed the leg, trying to offer a better form of comfort, and was surprised at the firmness of muscle he felt beneath his fingers. “Gerard – Gerard, wake up, please… you’re having a bad dream…” When Gerard didn’t wake from his slumber, but merely flung a hand out against the wall next to him, Frank gave Gerard’s leg a shake, requesting him to wake up a little louder – but keeping his voice low enough so that no one outside or in the neighboring rooms heard him.

Finally, Gerard bolted upright with a gasp, blinking his eyes furiously. “What – ?!”

“Shh.” Frank said, rubbing Gerard’s calf soothingly. “You were just – “

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

Gerard’s voice was low and forceful; even though the room was fairly dark, impairing Frank’s normally keen vision, it was clear that Gerard’s face was frightfully ominous. Frank quickly removed his hand, muttering hurried apologies. Once his leg was released, Gerard flopped back down on the mattress, grabbing his sheets are holding them just under his chin, bunched up in his tight grasp.

“Leave my bed. Now.”

Frank complied, scampering over to his own bed and crawling under the sheets. He peered over sadly at Gerard’s back, confused out of his fucking mind. He had only wanted to wake Gerard up from his nightmare; why did he get so fucking pissed?

“Frank?” Gerard whispered his voice softer but still possessing an edge to it.

“Yes?” Frank answered tentatively.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again.”

It took a long time for Frank to respond. Eventually, he mumbled, “O- okay…” uncomfortable with the fact that his voice sounded small and quavering.

Nothing was said the rest of the night, and the two men drifted off at about the same time, the buzzing of the cicadas in the night outside lulling them to an uneasy sleep.  


	4. Maybe I'm A Different Breed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Sail by Awolnation
> 
> I think I'll be assigning songs to each chapter now - idk why, it's just kind of fun lol. but the title of this chapter is part of the lyrics from this song so go check it out cause its def my jAM!!! and the lyrics are super cool hooha
> 
> anyways this chapter is fairly short, as it was intended to be. but, although it is small in length, the meaning behind it is quite large, which I hope you will understand after you have read it ;3
> 
> so yeah the usual stuff, comments are great (WHICH I DONT MUCH OF BTW) and yiss thats about it i hope you enoyed this chapter!!! ZOINK I LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING!!!

 

All Frank knew was that he was fucking _cold._

Not where he was, the time or day; just that the icy air was gnawing on his brittle like bones, and that his shivering was uncontrollable. 

"Where the fuck am I?" Frank muttered. In response to his inquiry, the sound of a cuckoo-clock broke the thick silence around him.

" _Cuckoo, cuckoo,"_  over and over again, ringing in Frank's ears and causing him to clamp his sweaty hands over them. Frank squinted his eyes at the darkness surrounding him, but could not make anything out through the thick blackness. He could not tell if he was standing, lying down, sideways, or upside down - nothing was clear or definite in this hellish limbo.

_"Not enough... never enough... failure..."_

"Who's there?" Frank's voice shout out, interrupting the whispers that seemed to be coming from inside his own head. 

The whispering continued, the unknown voices sounding sickeningly gleeful. 

" _You won't..._ can't...  _save him... "_ Low, sinister cackles slithered from the depths of the black abyss, making Frank shiver and twitch violently. 

And then the scene changed.

Frank was standing in the barren cafeteria of William James Mental Hospital. There were no tables, food stations, or even humans - except for Frank, who stood bare footed in a thin hospital gown, with the back of the dress not completely closed. 

"Hello?" Frank called out. He craned his neck, hoping that  _someone_ was there to tell him what the hell was going on and why the cafeteria was so fucking empty.

But no one responded.

"Jesus Christ!" Frank cursed in frustration. The fact that  _no one_ was there and that he had no idea what was going on was maddening for Frank. He jogged across the cool tiles of the cafeteria, coming to a stop in front of the doors that led to the gloomy courtyard outside. The crying angel statue was gone, and no one was milling about out there - so Frank moved on with an exasperated sigh, coming out into the deserted hallway. Frank paused, thinking to himself - if he went left, the cool linoleum floor would lead him to the group therapy and activity rooms. If he went right, he would end up in the business section of the hospital, where there was the front reception area and a bunch of small office-like rooms, including Doctor Toro's room.

Frank went to the right.

He needed to find the bushy-haired doctor and get some fucking answers on why the whole God damn hospital was empty, and why he, Frank, was wearing a mint green hospital gown that didn't even cover his fucking ass.

Frank was surprised to hear himself starting to pant. He'd been jogging down the dimly lit corridor for a few minutes now, passing doors he knew wouldn't lead him to Doctor Toro's office. Annoyed out of his mind that he couldn't seem to find Doctor Toro's room, Frank ceased his running and turned to the nearest door, grasping the silver handle firmly. He tried to twist it, but the cool, round metal wouldn't budge. He pressed his body against the door, peering into the long rectangular window pane that revealed nothing of the dark room behind it. Frank sighed aggressively, pushing himself off the door and trying the one on the opposite wall, to no avail. 

"Fucking Hell!" Frank said, a whining edge to his tone. He turned on his heel, now running down the hallway at a full run. Completely ignoring the fact that a swift breeze was brushing against his ass and cheeks, Frank pumped his arms ever more furiously, breathing harshly through his nostrils. 

And so the hallways extended. The doors continued to fly by out of the corner of Frank's eyes, which stung and watered due to the chilled air blowing against them. 

Frank was sprinting now, as fast and hard as his short legs could carry him. The hall never ended; just stretched on forever, continuing it's shadowy pathway to nowhere. 

"Doctor Toro?!" Frank screamed out, dismissing the burning pain in his aching thighs. Doctor Toro did not answer, nor did any other soul. Frank gasped in air, slowing to an unsteady stop. He was light headed and his vision was annoyingly blurred and fuzzy. The young hospital patient found himself collapsing against the corridor wall, slowly sliding down until his butt touched the floor. Frank tipped over onto his side, curling his legs up under his chin, wrapping his damp arms around his shins. His pupils darted around behind tightly shut lids, desperately searching for some sort of explanation as to what was happening. Although his eyes were closed, hot, angry tears escaped their ensnarement and slid down Frank's flushed cheeks. A few salty droplets quickly turned into a stinging, heavy flow - and Frank didn't even have the energy to wipe them away.

"Where is everyone?" Frank's voice was barely a whisper— but all the built up heartache and pain could be heard like a gunshot. 

***

Frank woke up with a gasp, sucking in cool air, feeling like he’d been underwater for hours. He rubbed his eyes, shutting them as tight as possible before allowing his delicate lids to fly open, searching the room around him. Frank sighed in relief - he was still in his new room, at William James and, yes, Gerard was over in the bed next to him. Frank wasn't alone anymore, and the joy of that thought almost brought him to tears, the nightmare slowly fading from his thoughts.

Frank stretched out his arms and arched his back, yawning loudly. He was so fucking glad that his dream was over, he felt like dancing - but, as he heard Gerard's feet slap against the floor of their room, his euphoric state quickly dropped to one of caution and discomfort.

The look on Gerard's face was certainly gloomy; his eyes pierced Frank's body, and his nose twitched slightly in what looked like disgust. 

"Could you not be so loud?" Gerard spat out.

"S-sorry..." Frank mumbled, dropping his arms to his side.

"Thanks." Gerard's voice was heavy with sarcasm; he lifted his body off the bed he'd been sitting on and slipped into his shoes, making his way over to the small wooden drawer to where his clothing was kept. He tugged off the shirt he'd slept in, and Frank's head slowly drifted to the right a little as he stared at Gerard's back in wonderment.

It was curiously long; Frank had been aware that Gerard had quite a length in both his legs and torso, but seeing his upper body exposed so bare like that brought a whole new light to Frank's perception of Gerard's body - which he thought was both beautiful and fucking _hot_. And, as though tempting Frank's sexuality, Gerard's back was speckled with small freckles here and there, which Frank had always adored on others. These small drops of dark color clashed gloriously with the creamy whiteness of Gerard's flesh; as he bent down to the bottom drawer to pluck a shirt from one of the stacks of clothing, Gerard's spine was made more visible as the skin on his back stretched out, the look of it so elegant and alluring that Frank physically  _ached_ to reach out and run his hands up and down Gerard's marble-smooth back.

It wasn't beautiful for long, though; Gerard pulled on a clean shirt and made his way to the door of the room, shooting yet another quick glare at Frank before he left to go do his morning routine in the bathroom. Frank sighed, scratching his head, feeling the hair that had grown quite long due to not being trimmed for the past few weeks; Gerard had phased so fast this morning, without Frank even uttering a fucking word.

And so Gerard's episodes continued for the next few days; they grew closer together, too, not just once a day. Multiple times, Gerard would phase right before Frank's eyes (and sometimes not); but even if Frank didn't catch it in the moment, he was always around, always there for every single one of Gerard's phasings. Him and Gerard were never separated. Sometimes the episodes would be because of something Frank did, although he was constantly watching what he said around Gerard; sometimes he would phase because of what a patient or nurse said; and sometimes he would phase for no reason at all. At least, there was no reason to Frank; rarely, but a few times, Gerard would stop in the middle of a sentence, or even silence, and turn on Frank, beating him with verbal fists and ridicule that made Frank recoil in fear and confusion. With each passing episode, Frank grew more and more unsure of his abilities to help Gerard; nothing he did seemed to help Gerard in any way, shape, or form; and Gerard was growing increasingly pissed off - but his moodiness was peculiar. Only at night would Gerard always be in a bad mood, no matter if there was actually something fun to do or they'd just had a nice dessert at dinner; he was happy for the most part during the mornings and afternoon, but starting around the time of their last meal of the day, Gerard's face would darken and he would barely talk to anyone, even Frank, for the rest of the night. Frank still had no idea what the source of Gerard's Multiple Personality Disorder was, and he began to fear that he never would - and that him and Gerard would rot in the hospital forever.

That Friday morning, after Gerard had left the room to go take a shower (without saying a single word to Frank, not even a mere "good morning"), Frank slipped out of bed and slowly trailed over to his dresser, licking the corners of his lips which had accumulated dry spit over the night.

With fresh clothes wrapped lightly around his skin, Frank exited his and Gerard's dingy room and slowly trudged down the hallway to the nurse's station. Although his calm demeanor made Frank look like he was thinking of nothing important or distressing, his head was clogged with confused, frantic thoughts all chasing each other in rapid circles. 

_What if I can't help him? What if  I fail, and Gerard gets even worse?_ Frank's mind was swimming, and his stomach was churning, stirring up a familiar anxiety he had known so well for the past three years. This nauseating, burning feeling was building up from his stomach to his chest, threatening to spew out all over the pristine floor. Frank glanced over at his stretched out arm, which supported his weight against the smooth wall - and suddenly, a peculiar idea filtered into his mind, hitting him like a sack of bricks.

_What if it's the pills?_ Frank places the index finger of his free hand limply in his mouth, gnawing on the nail that was already quite worn down from years of being crunched beneath Frank's teeth.

_The goddamn pills mess with my fucking mind. They put me on a whole other level, completely away from where Gerard's mind stands. Right now, he's all self-loathing and fucked up, while I'm sitting up on cloud-fucking-nine. I can't relate to his feelings at all - the pills prevent me from understanding the thoughts inside his head that he shares with me. Right now I'm just this little life-loving fuck that can't relate to anyone else in here, let alone Gerard._

_If I stop taking the pills, maybe I'll be able to actually compute all the deep shit Gerard confides in me, and I'll finally start figuring out how to help him tame his Multiple Personality Disorder._ Frank had resumed his steady walking now, but although he was moving again, doubt was beginning to pry it's way into Frank's new solution to his ordeal with Gerard.

_What if he leaves me? What if, after spending all the extra time and fucking_ effort  _I've put into helping him get better, Gerard decides that he no longer needs me around? And then he leaves, like everyone else, and completely forgets I ever existed?_

_  
_Frank shakes his head furiously, banishing away the terrible insecure questions running through his mind. _No, this is different._ Gerard's  _different. He needs me here - without my help, how is he going to learn to control himself? No, I can't give up. I have to do whatever it takes to help him get better. I trust that he'll stay with me; he promised he would._

 _And as for the medication, I don't even need it anymore. I'm all better, really; no more depression, no more cutting, no more panic attacks. The overwhelming sadness, the constant anxiety - it's all gone, everything is fine, I'm doing great. There's no point in swallowing the pills anymore, they're fucking futile now. And, yeah, I know depressed people always think they're completely fixed after being on the meds for only a few weeks - but, fuck, I can't afford to put my mental health before Gerard's, when_ he's  _the one who needs the help right now. I know I can manage another few weeks without my medication until Gerard's out of here - I lasted three years straight without any pills, didn't I?_

_  
_Frank had now arrived at the nurse's station, his mind completely made up. He felt calm and relaxed again; he was sure that his new plan was fool-proof. Before they even knew it, Doctor Toro would be signing Gerard and Frank's release papers and they'd finally be fucking _free._

At least, that's what Frank  _thought_ would happen.

Frank took the two small capsules - one white and one a powdery blue - and threw them into his open mouth, following this action by putting the small paper cup of water to his lips and allowing the lquid to spill into his mouth. Frank flashed a smile at the plump nurse behind the counter, keeping his lips sealed tight. He turned on his heel and began moving down the hallway, dodging patients and doctors as they came in his direction. He shifted the pills in his mouth so that they were resting under his tongue; yet the mouthful of water was hard to keep behind his lips. It also brought up the bitter taste of the medicine onto his taste buds; Frank tried not to grimace as he burst into the nearest men's restroom. 

He gazed around the soap-smelling room; thankfully, it was empty, and Frank slowed down his pace as he stepped into the nearest stall, gently sliding over the metal lock as he closed the plastic door. Frank turned and bent down to the toilet, his hands resting on his knees as they supported his upper body weight. Frank parted his lips, allowing the liquid to spill out into the toilet below in thin, cloudy stream. The pills fell out somewhere along the line, only making barely audible splashing sounds as they hit the toilet water, and looking oddly mushy and deformed.

Once his mouth was empty, and the toilet flushed of all evidence, Frank leaned back against the stall door and smiled to himself, flicking his tongue against the sliver lip ring. He knew, he fucking  _knew,_ that he wouldn't get caught not taking his meds. The whole hospital - nurses, doctors, activity directors - all of them trusted and truly believed that Frank wanted to get better. Well, he still did - he just didn't want to be on medication anymore. And yet,  Frank wondered if it was a good decision not to stay on his anxiety pills, in case he started having panic attacks again - but before he could think too deeply about this potential trouble, Frank shook his head, silently assuring himself that everything would be okay in the end. 


	5. All In the Way You Look At Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWOWOW THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME *FOREVER* TO MAKE!!!! i'm really REALLY sorry about that. there was just so much stuff i needed to put in this chapter, which greatly intimidated me and i don't even know if you guys will like it cause this my first time writing the stuff at then end (you'll find out what i'm talking about heheh) so YEAH AGAIN I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG. the chapters will come a lot quicker now, i promise :o 
> 
> okay so yeah comments are greatly appreciated, as well as constructive critism! *3* okay bye now i hope you enjoy thank you for reading mwah (btw my beta wasn't available to edit this chapter so i had to fix mistakes n shit so sorry for the shittiness of my grammar/punctuation)
> 
> OH YEAH the song for this chapter is Hollow Hearts by Avion Roe woop (woop is not a part of the band name)

Over the weekend, Gerard’s incessant pissed-off demeanor slowly evaporated; by the following Monday, he even waited for Frank to walk to breakfast with him in the morning. This change, although very much welcome, was confusing to Frank. Gerard’s first week at William James, he had been pleasant (and adorably shy) for the most part; the second week, completely the opposite, barely even speaking to Frank on most days; and now it appeared that this week he was happy again. Frank couldn’t understand these emotional and personality switches, but he wanted to try to _keep_ Gerard happy this time – he just didn’t know how to do that. Christmas was nearing, and he hoped maybe some of the holiday cheer would help Gerard’s attitude along.

Also, this was _supposed_ to be Gerard’s last week at William James. Due to this fact, Frank was panicking. He wasn’t sure, yet, if the effects of his medication had completely worn off, and he’d made almost zero progress with Gerard’s mental state. Frank had been kept up every night for the past few days, thinking and rethinking means of getting information out of Gerard – and every day, as he attempted these conversations, Gerard would shut down and glower at everything, not uttering a full sentence for the rest of the day. But Frank was never mad at Gerard for blocking him – as well as the rest of the world – out like that; he only focus his anger on himself. As a way of releasing the great deal of stress building up inside him, Frank had made a small habit of knocking his head against the bathroom stall, when it was completely empty of other persons. It was not nearly as good as cutting, but it definitely helped keep him sane in Gerard’s last week at the hospital. A small, painful welt had formed on the back of Frank’s head, where he would throw his skull back against the hard plastic of the stall, and he could no longer sleep on his flat back due to the pain that would shoot out from the swollen bruise.

Although it was there, no one at the hospital noticed the bump on Frank’s head – mostly because it blended in under the thick layer of dark hair on his scalp. Still, Frank felt a little hurt by this ignorance from the employees of William James; and definitely hurt that his roommate hadn’t even noticed his various disappearances throughout the day to the bathroom. But all the while, Frank still wouldn’t blame his distress on anyone other than himself. _You screwed up – you’re a failure, you can’t do anything right, and now you’re paying for it in bruises. You_ deserve _this._

After breakfast, which was followed by a frosty Outside Rec, Frank and Gerard made their ways into the Group Therapy room, both of them rubbing their hands together and blowing into their palms to warm themselves up from the chill outside.

Monday Group therapy was slow today. Frank and Gerard passed the excruciating time by making faces at the other patients when Colleen's back was turned, and would erupt into silent giggles when some of the more light-hearted patients would respond with even stupider looks than the ones given to them. Frank and Gerard left group therapy with cheerful attitudes, both of them having gotten away with sharing minimal information during what they referred to as ‘Gross Feelings Time’.

Much to Frank’s delight, the rest of his day was nice. The activities were fun; they made picture collages from magazines in Arts and Crafts, and later on played a rousing game of Bingo. All of Frank’s troubles about Gerard’s progress at William James were pushed far from his mind, and he didn’t spend a single moment of the day worrying about his best friend.

He _did_ ponder the thought, though, of his relationship with Gerard. Of course, it was completely platonic; Frank was fairly sure that Gerard wasn’t gay – but if that _was_ the case, he definitely wouldn’t push anything. Frank was comfortable with his own homosexuality, but had not yet informed Gerard of it – although the young man was clearly not homophobic, he didn’t want to make Gerard any less comfortable hanging out with him. Frank decided that it was better to keep that information to himself, at least for the time being.

But it was pretty fucking hard to just blatantly suppress any and all feelings towards Gerard; well, he didn’t suppress his affection and care for his friend, but did often find him having to convince himself that the sudden heat in his dick was _not_ because Gerard looked particularly hot that day. And it wasn’t that Frank was just attracted to Gerard’s appearance; his roommate was just so god damn _interesting._ Frank loved when they stayed well up into the night, talking about serious topics like the afterlife, what they want to do with their lives, the people that they wish they’d turned out to be, etc. Usually, one of them would flop their hands on the bed and heave an aggravated sigh, vocalizing that they couldn’t sleep. Almost immediately their discussions would begin, and last for what felt like hours. Frank loved to listen to Gerard talking at these times; for some reason, the darkness and space between them seemed to make the man more open; more willing to talk about things that would usually make him uncomfortable or hesitant in the daylight, when they were facing each other with undivided attention.

At these times, Gerard’s words just seemed to tumble from his tongue, spilling out into the late night air, each one full of some deeper meaning that always managed to leave Frank wordless. Gerard would talk about anything and everything – well, everything except his childhood. Frank tried that subject a few times, but Gerard always grew distant and quiet, so Frank would quickly start a new conversation to get him going again. Anything to keep Gerard talking; Frank didn’t even mind if it was only Gerard speaking, for sometimes the soft sound of his voice spewing out words with passion or vehemence was enough to lull Frank into a deep, peaceful sleep.

But although Gerard was making a comfortable spot in his heart, Frank hated these feelings. Hated how confusing and outright _creepy_ they were; he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of an awkward, one-sided crush – and he really didn’t want to make Gerard feel the way Dane had made him feel. Frank despised the way his stomach would get all twisted up when Gerard flashed him cute smiles, or poked him playfully – and he _really_ loathed the fact that seeing Gerard with a towel around his waist from getting out of the shower, or changing in their room, turned him on a little. He wished – he fucking _prayed_ – that all of these feelings, physical and emotional, would leave him alone, so he could enjoy the company and friendship of his roommate without longing for something more.

But that Monday evening, when Frank, Carl, and Gerard had settled down at their usual table for dinner, all thoughts of his growing affection for Gerard were far from Frank’s mind. The conversation shared between the three men never stopped, and if they found their banter beginning to die down, one of them would slyly fling a noodle (from the spaghetti on their plates) at the other, causing them to erupt into laughter, and somehow managing to bring a new topic onto their lips.

The day had been wonderful, and the night was turning out great so far, until an angry looking Dane glided up to their table, his arms folded tightly over his narrow chest.

Dane, who’d been sitting with Tony the whole of dinner, abruptly got up and stormed over to Frank’s table in the middle of Tony’s rant about the importance of night light’s. Dane had been staring at Frank the whole evening, his bitter gaze boring into Frank’s back, and he’d had enough of waiting around.

He arrived at their table with an obvious air of aggravation. His thin lips were tightly pursed together, and he tapped his toe on the linoleum floor in a quick, out of pace rhythm.

“Hi, Dane!” Frank said, grinning and peeling a particularly wet noodle off of his neck.

“Hello.” Dane said pointedly, barely moving his lips.

“What’s up?” Frank giggled, looking at Dane but flinging his noodle in Gerard’s direction, who deflected it with a defiant ‘aha!’

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Said Dane, his voice tight and cross.

Sensing Dane’s displeasure, although Frank didn’t know it’s source, he scooted over on his side of the table and pulled his tray over with him, allowing Dane room to sit down next to him. “You wanna sit with us?”

To Frank’s surprise, a playful grin did not instantaneously spread across Dane’s lips, like he’d expected. Instead, Dane tapped his foot on the floor even harder, looking thoroughly pissed off. “No!” he spat out, his nose twitching a bit in anger.

“Oh, okay…” Frank said, now unsure of what to do.

“Notice anything _different_ today?” Dane asked.

“No…” Frank responded, glancing over at Gerard, who shrugged his shoulders in confusion, and then at Carl, who looked somber yet again, and gave no response to Frank’s silent inquiry. Apparently, he did not much enjoy the presence of Dane, perhaps just as much as Frank.

“Oh, that’s nice, that’s _great._ ” Dane grumbled.

“Dane, what’s wrong?” Frank asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

“Oh, _nothing.”_ Dane enunciated, looking almost happy to be annoyed.

Frank threw his hands up in surrender. He’d been having a great day, one of the best since he got to William James, and he was not about to let Dane, of all fucking people, ruin it. “Okay, man, if you don’t want to talk, then whatever.” And then, feeling a little bad about being unusually rude, Frank added, “Sorry.”

Dane scoffed, rolling his eyes – but still looking a bit hurt, for the first time since he’d shown up. “You really didn’t notice?” he said out, but although his tone was forceful, his eyes conveyed a certain look of dolor.

“Notice what?” Gerard piped up, saving Frank from having to answer another seemingly rhetorical question. Frank met his roommates eyes, and they shared a quick look of understanding, and then returned their attention back to Dane, all in the matter of barely a second.

Dane glowered down at Gerard, looking positively murderous. He breathed harshly through his nose, and then threw his hands in the air, apparently tired of being indirect. “That I wasn’t here today!” he cried out, his light eyes ablaze.

All three men at the table are quiet for a minute, reminiscing on the day’s events. It was true; Dane _hadn’t_ been there for a single meal, or Group Therapy, or any of the recreational activities.

“Oh…” Frank uttered. “Uh, sorry? I guess it just kind of slipped our minds – sorry, Dane, really –“

“Did it really? Did it _really_ slip your mind, Frank? Cause I think you noticed I wasn’t here and you were _happy_ about. You didn’t have to listen to _stupid_ Dane and his _stupid_ stories and look at his _stupid_ face –“

“Dane, no!” Frank protested, looking distraught. “That’s not what I – or any of us – thought for even one second! We just forgot, Dane, that’s all it is…”

“You of all people should know what it feels like to be forgotten.” Dane uttered, his voice as stiff as his expression. Frank’s breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t respond; his gaze dropped from Dane’s eyes, slowly lowering until he stared at his own wringing hands.

To everyone’s surprise, Gerard stood up at this. “Hey, Dane, that’s not cool, man.” He said, pushing his chair back a little aggressively, Frank noticed, through his slightly blurred vision.

Dane regarded Gerard with a look of pure disgust, staring at the man with his nose wrinkled in distaste. Dane stepped closer to Gerard, his eyes narrowed to slits. Gerard did not back away, but held is place, although he was very much aware of the impeding danger of the situation.

“That was mean, okay? It’s not Frank’s fault you weren’t here today. He’s not obligated to freak out whenever you’re absent.”

Dane sneered, a wicked gleam in his pale blue eyes. “Nobody asked you… _faggot_.” Dane’s smile grew wider, but it was not pleasant in the least; it was out of the satisfaction from the shocked look on Gerard’s face.

“Don’t call me that.” Gerard said forcefully, his hands balling into fists.

“What?” Dane asked mockingly, now only half a foot separating him from Gerard. _“Faggot?”_ he repeated, looking positively gleeful. Suddenly, Dane’s arms sprung of from his sides and shoved Gerard’s chest roughly, causing the young man to stumble backwards.

“What the fuck?!” Gerard cried out, catching his balance on Carl’s shoulder, who was sitting behind Gerard, and didn’t even seem to notice him laying a hand on him for support.

Dane didn’t say anything this time, but narrowed in on Gerard once again. He grabbed onto Gerard’s shoulders, his grip so tight that his knuckles turned white, and shook Gerard violently. “ _Faggot, faggot, faggot!”_ he hissed, spittle flying from his lips. Something odd was happening to Gerard, though; something that made Frank’s stomach drop and churn in fear.

Gerard wasn’t looking fiercely into Dane’s eyes anymore; his hazel gaze was still on Dane’s face, but it looked as though he was seeing past the furious man in front of him, and this only seemed to piss Dane off even more. Gerard’s forehead was lined, his brow scrunched up; he was muttering the words, “ _Stop it, stop it…”_ over and over again, his voice weak and lacking in emotion.

Dane let out a laugh that sounded more like a bark, tossing his head back, sickly enjoying the state he’d put Gerard in. All the while, Frank stayed seated, gripping the table tightly in anxiety. He wanted to stand up, wanted to stop what he knew was going to turn out _very_ bad, but his legs felt like lead, and he simply could not lift his feet off the ground.

Dane drove Gerard backwards now, still gripping his shoulders strongly. Gerard landed with a smackagainst the large window that enclosed them from the outdoors; his head knocked back against the glass with a sickening sound that made Frank feel a little nauseous.

This appeared to be too much for Gerard to take. Almost immediately, his jaw slackened, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His hands, which had been gripping Dane’s biceps so as not to trip as he was being driven backwards, dropped from Dane’s arms and fell to his sides, dangling there limply. His longer fingers grazed against the black fabric of his jeans, swinging there gently and immobile.

Dane held on, a wicked grin still playing on his lips. He leaned in close to Gerard’s ear and whispered something inaudible to Frank – but he knew it was terrible, for Gerard’s body began to shake and twitch. _What the fuck did he say?_ Frank thinks, standing up from his seat. _What the hell is happening to Gerard?!_

“Hey! Help!” Frank yells out, to no one in particular. He is hoping to catch the hearing of nearby guards, none of which were inside the cafeteria. _Great, the_ one _day no one’s around, this shit fucking happens. Fantastic._

Frank raced over to Dane and Gerard and attempted to pry Dane’s arms off of Gerard’s quivering shoulders. “Get off him!” Frank yells. He could feel the stares of the other patients boring into his back, their full attention of the scene at the back of the cafeteria, but no one did anything to help the struggling Frank. They merely sat and watched, their faces blank and emotionless.

“This? _This_ is what it takes?” Dane asked, his head turning towards Frank, but not relenting his firm grip.

“What?!” Frank cried out, exasperated at the ever indirect Dane.

“This is what it takes to get you to notice me?” Dane’s voice is small and meek now, not nearly as forceful as it had been when speaking to Gerard.

Frank didn’t know what to say; he was confused and frantic, and he was not capable of forming words at the moment.

Dane shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “I… I thought you were different, man.” Not only did he look severely upset, but truly saddened by something unknown to Frank, which is what really hit him the hardest.

“Dane –“ he started, but was cut off by three hospital guards appearing at the scene.  They were all tall, muscular, and gruff looking, with stern expressions on their tired faces. Two of them split off and walked over to Dane, one taking each of Dane’s arms. They peeled him off from Gerard with ease, and even a little bit of grace, without the struggle Frank had dealt with.  Dane let go of Gerard easily, casting Frank one last look of pure dejection, and Frank could’ve sworn that tears had welled up in his eyes. He left the cafeteria, then; the two white-clothed guards both grasping his arms as they passed the many staring patients and lunch ladies.

Frank now turned to Gerard, and the guard that had come over to his shaking friend. Somewhere along the line, without Frank noticing, a young nurse had come up to Gerard, bringing a small syringe in hand. Gerard had slumped against the wall, his head drooping down so that his chin was touching his chest. Locks of thick black hair tumbled down his forehead, covering most of his face, but Frank could still make out that it was a ghastly, pasty white – not it’s usual soft, creamy hue. To see his best friend like that, sitting unconscious on the floor with a thin stain of dried spit trailing out of the corner of his mouth, was enough to make Frank nearly collapse.

Nearly.

Frank wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to fucking _kill_ Dane for doing this to Gerard. For making him into this mess of a being, lying on the floor – and now having a needle stuck into a vein in his arm, the young nurse injecting a clear liquid into his blood.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked weakly, looking desperate for answers, but too exhausted and drained to actually listen.

The nurse ignored Frank, and so did the thick guard, and the two of them tenderly lifted the unconscious Gerard to his feet, slinging his long arms around their shoulders. They walked out of the cafeteria, leaving Frank with the awful sound of Gerard’s shoes dragging against the linoleum floor.  Frank runs up to the three, walking right on their heels.

“Hey, where are you taking him?” he asks the nurse and the guard, staring desperately at the backs of their heads. They stop, and only the guard swivels his head a few inches back in Frank’s direction, not evening making the effort to meet his eyes.

“The hospital wing.” He utters, his voice stern and deep.

“Oh, okay, I’m coming with you.” Frank says, nodding. He’s heard of the hospital wing of William James, and frankly, he finds the idea of it ironic – a hospital needing a medical section. But he knows that it’s for the patients that fall ill during their stay at William James, or for those that attempt bodily harm, and need to be kept strapped to an uncomfortable bed, with tubes and needles connected to their bodies. Frank shudders at the thought, but shakes his head, reassuring himself that this is where Gerard needs to be right now – in the hands of medical professionals that can return him back to consciousness and full physical health. And although Frank truly wants Gerard to wake up and be back in their room as soon as possible, he is terrified of what his friend will say to him when he wakes up. _He’s going to hate me; he has too, I mean, he saw me fucking_ staring _at him while Dane was fucking attacking him – he saw me do nothing to stop it. He hates me. I know it._

“Sir, no patients are allowed in the hospital wing unless you are in need of immediate medical care, or you have permission from Doctor Toro. You’ll have to stay here, and wait for your friend to wake up and return on his own.”

“But he’s my friend! That’s my _friend!”_ Frank cries, pointing at the slumped Gerard. “I have to come with you… he needs me…” Frank mutters, his shoulders dropping, and his stomach twisting again as he takes in the sight of the impaired Gerard.

“There are no exceptions, sir. Please remain in the cafeteria, or we will have to call security.” The doctor turns his head back around, and he and the nurse continue their way out of the cafeteria, disappearing into the dimly lit hallway and out of Frank’s sight.

Frank sinks into his chair, putting a hand to his forehead. He rubs his temples hard, squeezing them as though trying to make dents in his head. He makes no noises, just breathes fiercely and unsteadily. _Don’t you fucking cry. Don’t you fucking do it._

“Fuck!” Frank curses furiously, pounding his fist against the table. _Fucking hell, if Doctor Toro doesn’t kill me, I swear I’ll do it myself._ Frank’s mind races with confused thoughts and desperate questions, mainly as to why the _fuck_ Gerard just had a fucking _seizure,_ and why he, Frank, had just sat there and watched it all happen –watched his friend deteriorate, physically and emotionally, right before his eyes, and that he hadn’t even move a single muscle.

“What happened?” the question comes from Carl, who is watching Frank with a curious expression. 

Frank groans, burying his head in his arms on the table. “I don’t even know, Carl.” He mumbles, his words muffled by the fabric against his mouth.

“Oh. Okay.” Says Carl, returning to his green beans, looking satisfied.

Frank sighs into his shirt sleeve, weakly beating at the table again.“Are you alright?” Carl asks, sounding mildly interested.

“No.” Frank moans, his voice positively miserable.

“Go talk to Doctor Toro.” Says Carl, taking on a wise tone. “He always knows what to say.”

And so Frank heeds the strange man’s advice, and pays a visit to Doctor Toro.

****

Frank bursts into the doctor’s office without knocking or asking permission to enter, closing the door roughly behind him. His breathing is quick and harsh, coming only out of his nostrils, due to his angrily pursed lips.

“Good evening, Frank.” Doctor Toro greets him warmly, although looking gravely at his computer screen. The effulgence from the screen shines on his tanned face, and is the only light in his room, aside from the tall lamp next to his huge desk, which emits a hazy, yellow glow.

“Hi,” Frank says, breathless. “Doctor Toro, I have something to tell you.”

Doctor Toro does not remove his eyes from his computer, but merely inclines his head slightly, pressing his lips against his thick, folded hands.

“Okay, um… just now… at dinner… fuck – oh sorry…” Frank rakes his finger through his dark brown hair, scrunching up the longish hairs and tugging at them a bit.

“Don’t pull at your hair, Frank – the pain you seek is only a temporary craving. Dismiss it and let it pass; you’re better than this, and we both know it.” Somehow Doctor Toro noticed this small action from Frank, although his eyes were still glued to his brightly glowing screen.

“Oh…” Frank mumbles, slowly and unsurely pulling his hand away from his head, instead holding it to his lips and gnawing on his nails. Doctor Toro and makes a _tsk_ noise with his tongue, shaking his head minutely.

“What? It’s just my nails, it doesn’t hurt.” Frank protests, exasperatedly removing his hand from his mouth and throwing it down to his side.

“Not a good habit to start.” Doctor Toro replies, shrugging his shoulders and offering a coy smile. Frank relaxes slightly at this sign of positivity from his doctor, and continues on with a stronger voice.

“Anyways – something happened tonight at dinner. Something… bad.”

“Ah, yes – with our friend Dane, I expect?” Doctor Toro says, now staring down at his keyboard.

“Y-yeah… how did you know that?” Frank asks skeptically.

“Oh, I get around.” Says Doctor Toro. Frank doesn’t respond verbally, but crosses his arms in frustration. Doctor Toro notices his annoyance, and adds, “I’m the leading psychologist here at William James, Frank. I am informed of every miniscule even that goes on here.” Doctor Toro’s voice sounds tired, and he brings his hands to his face, tenderly rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Oh, so, you think it was miniscule, what happened tonight? It doesn’t even matter to you? It’s not even a _kind_ of big deal that – “

“Frank, you’re starting to sound like Dane.” Doctor Toro says in an even tone; this statement is enough to shut Frank up immediately, and Doctor continues, “No, Frank – I think what happened tonight is a _very_ big deal, and I am terribly troubled that it even happened in the first place. I was just trying to put in perspective for you of how much I know of the inner workings – you might even say ‘gossip’ – of this hospital.”

“Oh… sorry.” Frank utters, feeling ashamed of himself for lashing out at Doctor Toro, who waves his apology of with an airy flick of his hand.

“It’s alright, I understand why you are distraught. Please, sit down, and tell me everything that happened, starting from when Dane arrived at your table.”

And so Frank regales the story of that night’s event to Doctor Toro, making sure not to skip any details, even if he, Frank, deemed them in his mind to be unimportant. Throughout the story, Doctor Toro stares down at his desk, nodding in some places, or not blinking for minutes on end in others. Frank finished the story and leaned back in his chair, starting to feel a familiar anxiety close around his chest, seizing his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. Doctor Toro slid his rolley chair closer to his computer again, typing and clicking hurridely for the next few minutes. The two men say nothing, both of them far too wrapped up in their own thoughts to say much to the other.

Doctor Toro abruptly ceases his typing and pushes himself back from his desk, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands behind his head, the appendages disappearing behind his bushy hair. “Frank,” he addressed the young man in front of him; Frank was surprised at how exhausted Doctor Toro sounded. “The first thing I want to make sure you know is that this occurrence _was not your fault._ Do you understand that?” Frank swallows, biting at his lip ring, and finally gives a small nod. “Do you _believe_ it?” Doctor Toro asks, looking deeply into Frank’s eyes. _Fuck, no. This is all my fault, man – why can’t people just tell me when I’ve screwed up? There’s no fucking point in beating around the bush. We all know I’m a jackass, why the fuck –_

“Frank?” Doctor Toro interrupts Frank’s increasingly vicious thoughts, calling his name softly.

“What? Oh, yeah – yeah, I believe it.” Frank nodded again, wetting his lips and staring at Doctor Toro’s hairline, not meeting the man’s golden eyes. Doctor Toro noticed this, of course, but made no comment about it.

“Good. I needed to make sure you know that. Now that we’ve covered that, I’d like to talk about Dane for a bit.” Frank closes his eyes, a mixture of fury and sadness washing over him. Doctor Toro gently continues, “We’ve decided he is no longer fit to stay in Monday Group, and have now switched him over to Tuesday Group.”

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I know Dane’s… messed up, and stuff, but Tuesday Group… no offense, it’s just – “

“I understand Tuesday Group consists more of the severely affected patients, Frank – but, quite unfortunately, Dane can now be classified as one of them. I assure you, I am not happy or content with this decision, but it’s what he needs. He will get better treatment whilst participating in Tuesday Group’s activities. Dane is fairly independent; I believe he can handle Tuesday Group. His meetings with me will be increased slightly, as well, but that isn’t of much importance right now.”

Frank sighs heavily, closing his eyes and nodding his head slowly, signaling Doctor Toro to continue. “You probably won’t be seeing much of him anymore – not because I’m trying to keep you two separated, but simply because the two Group schedules were strictly made to avoid each other.  I’m sorry if this is upsetting – “

“Trust me, it’s not upsetting.” Frank cuts in bitterly. He wished he didn’t feel that way towards Dane now; although the young man used to annoy and creep Frank out to quite an extent, he was tolerable for the most part, and Frank’s first real friend at William James. Although Dane  doesn’t feel the same way about Frank now, either, there is a certain connection between the two that neither of them quite understand, but also cannot ignore – or just forget about, as though they had never been friends in the first place.

Doctor Toro nodded, looking oddly grave. “Alright, well, that’s settled, then. I just wanted to inform you of what was going on with Dane. So, now there is the topic of – “

“Why was he freaking out, Doctor Toro? And why was he gone?” Frank interrupts. The question had been burning inside him ever since he’d entered the room, and it looked as though this was his last chance to ask.

“Ah – well, Dane wasn’t at the hospital today because his family requested to spend the day with him for his birthday.” Doctor Toro says, looking at Frank with an unreadable expression.

“Oh – _shit,_ is that why he was so mad? I had no idea it was his birthday!” Frank says, now feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over him.

“Dane claims that he told you, when you two first met, the date of his birthday… whether or not it is true, I don’t know – but I must insist that you do not let this get to you.” Doctor Toro watches Frank intensely, making sure his point gets across. Frank nods again, staring down at his knees. Of course, he whole-heartedly believes this is all his fault, but he’s never going to admit that to Doctor Toro.

“Well – now that we’ve discussed that, I want to talk about Gerard, and how the progress with him has been going.”

Frank groans, burying his face in his hands; he wasn’t annoyed, but feeling panicky and distressed again – the subject of Gerard always did this to him, especially now, given the circumstances.

Doctor Toro smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t get stressed out, Frank – I realize that, yes, this was the last week that we agreed you and Gerard would stay at William James. Clearly, due to no one’s fault but my own, Gerard will not actually be leaving this week, and I’ve already taken the liberty to inform and sincerely apologize to his mother.” 

“Doctor Toro, I’m so sorry I’ve screwed this up – I just don’t know what to do – it’s so complicated, and I’m just so fucking lost – “

“Frank, Frank – it’s okay! It really is!” but apparently Frank still looked severely distressed, because Doctor Toro continue earnestly, “Frank, it is completely my fault for not informing you on how I expected you to help Gerard with his Multiple Personality Disorder. First of all, did you even… I suppose, make a ‘plan’ on how you intended to help Gerard?”

“Umm… no? I guess I thought I could fix him by, like – “

“Oh, Frank, please don’t say that again.”

“Say what?”

“’Fix’. Neither you, nor anyone else, will ever be able to ‘fix’ someone with a mental or emotional disorder. ‘Fixing’ someone is mending their broken bones, or reattaching a Barbie’s arm to her body. That is ‘fixing’; it is physical, and definite, and there is an exact way to do it. You cannot ‘fix’ a mental disorder; it runs to deep inside its victim, and they will _never_ be completely free of their sickness.”

“Oh – sorry…” Frank says, truly feeling bad about his apparent faux pas.

“It’s okay – you, much like a lot of people on this planet, don’t yet understand how significant terms with similar meanings are, and how very different they can actually be. Words are very powerful, Frank – sometimes even deadly. Remember that.

“So, back to our previous subject – your plan. Or, well, your plan that does not exist.” Doctor smiled kindly at Frank, showing his joking attitude.

“Yeah, I don’t have one – and, sorry, but – is that funny to you? Cause it looks like it is. You know, this has been really fucking with me lately – but I’m doing fine still – but I’ve been under a lot of pressure and I don’t know what to do and it feels like I’m drowning and I haven’t been breathing properly and – “

Doctor Toro looked deeply upset – the corners of his lip were turned down, and his forehead was creased. “Oh, goodness, Frank – I am so sorry my request has been causing you this much trouble and stress. I really, really am – it was never intended to do this to you.” Frank scratches his head, breathing deeply and staring pointedly at his feet. “This plan I’m talking about – it’s not _supposed_ to exist, Frank. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear to you; I was just trying to see what your intentions were with Gerard.”

“Then what was I supposed to do?!” Frank bursts out, ignoring Doctor Toro’s apology.

“Before I explain that to you, Frank, I have to ask – you haven’t slipped back into your old ways, have you? You’re not thinking bad things again?” Doctor Toro watches Frank with concern in his eyes.

“No…” Frank said, gnawing particularly hard on his thumb nail.

Doctor Toro pursed his lips, frowning still. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.  I really would’ve felt like a monster if that had started to happen.”

_You’re not the only one, buddy._

“Frank, I failed to inform you of a number of things, which is the reason why you had little success with Gerard over the past two weeks. The main thing I did not mention is psychotherapy.”

“You didn’t… give me therapy?” Frank asks, a perplexed look on his face.

“Oh, no – you are not in need of psychotherapy, Frank. There I go again, miscommunicating important details. I  meant that I was supposed to tell you and help you understand what psychotherapy is. _Do_ you, by chance, know what it is?”

“Uh, I don’t think so…” Frank responds, slowly shaking his head.

“Ah, well, most people don’t. Psychotherapy is the most commonly used method of treatment for persons with Multiple Personality Disorder.” Frank nods slowly, processing the information is his head.

“This is what I’d intended to use on Gerard, through you – well, this, along with some hypnosis in our private meanings – but that is between Gerard and I. Unfortunately, you were not aware of any of this, which I deeply regret for not telling you. I honestly don’t know how it slipped my mind.” Doctor Toro said, his eyebrows raised, as though deeply confused by his own mistake.

“Psychotherapy involves developing a therapeutic relationship – in this case, between you and Gerard. The patient, or Gerard, will experience feelings they don’t usually feel comfortable with or not openly expressing in the past. It is done carefully, and usually slowly paced, so as to prevent the patient from feeling overwhelmed or anxious about their progress. The mental guider will work to help the patient find a way to overcome with feelings of stress, despair, anger, etcetera. They find ways to help the patient cope with memory lapses that may occur during times of dissociation. The main goal is achieving a more peaceful coexistence of the person’s multiple personalities.

“So, do you see, Frank? Gerard was never going to admit some piece of information to you, and immediately everything in your head would click, and a solution would form. There is no definite cure or answer to Gerard’s disorder. Through psychotherapy I’d hoped, and still do, that Gerard’s mind will open up to his childhood, and we will finally know what traumatic event happened to him as a child; what demon has been tormenting his mind all throughout his teenage years.”

“And… that was all supposed to happen over just three weeks? I mean, you’re really smart, Doctor Toro – but, Jesus, there’s no way that could’ve happened so fast!” Frank says, looking astonished.

“I know, Frank. But a little over two weeks ago, I didn’t. Again, I mistakenly overestimated the many limiting factors of the situation. For that, I am deeply sorry.” And the doctor looked like he really was.

“It’s okay.” Frank says, but not really meaning it. “So… what do we do now?”

Doctor Toro leans forward, the yellow glow of the lamp beside his desk shifting on his face. “That’s a great question. What would _you_ like to do, Frank?”

“Ah… I dunno? I – I still really want to help Gerard, though.”

Doctor Toro nods, smiling warmly. “That’s good to hear. I still firmly believe that you are best suited to carry out the process of Gerard’s psychotherapy.”

“And, uh… why is that, exactly? Sorry to keep asking, but I really just don’t get how you have so much faith in me…” said Frank, his brow furrowed.

“I’m trusting this with you, Frank, because whether or not you know it, you are extremely good at understand people – even if you have nothing in common with them. People talk to you and see that you truly care about their problems and you, subconsciously, become their emotional output.”

Frank thought back to all the patients he had met at William James. Most of them had come and went, and Frank didn’t really think he’d made an impression on them. But, as he mulled over it now, he realized that most of the patients, whom he’d just met, had told him some of their deepest and darkest secrets, confining things in him that Frank would’ve thought they would forever keep bottled up. He especially remembered the things Dane had told him – how the old willow tree in his backyard had constantly whispered to Dane, even in his sleep, planting thoughts of murder in his exposed mind.

“You really are something special, Frank. It’s amazing, the progress you’ve made here, and all the while helping out other patients along the way.”

 _Liar,_ Frank thinks. _I’m worthless – unimportant to everyone – quit feeding me this bullshit, man. It’s been proven that I fuck everything up– don’t shove this shit in my face and expect me to actually believe it._

Not voicing these thoughts, Frank says, “Thanks. So should I stay here longer? For Gerard’s sake?”

Doctor Toro purses his lips in thought, twiddling his thumbs. “If you wish, Frank, you can stay here a bit longer. The decision is up to you.”

“I’ll stay.” Frank says, without a single doubt in his mind. “I want Gerard to get better as soon as possible. He deserves to finish out high school with an even mind.”

“And so do you.” Says Doctor Toro.

Frank shrugs this off and asks, “Um, do I need a note or something? To see Gerard?”

“Oh – yes, you’ll be needing a permission slip – we have that rule set to make sure no one just walks into the hospital wing, because we do have those patients that crave violence and… gore, you know – a terrible case happened back fifteen years ago, I wasn’t working here yet and oh, God, am I glad I wasn’t here to see it – “

Doctor Toro tells Frank the story of an occurrence fifteen years back, when a new, male patient decided one night to enter the hospital wing, slipping into the room of a young girl and committing vile, disgusting acts to the young woman,  as he fills out the permission slip – not bothering to skirt around the nasty details. Frank shudders throughout the story and gladly takes the white piece of paper when handed to him, stepping up quickly from his chair and striding over to the door, feeling a bit nauseous.

When Frank is halfway out the door, having said goodnight to Doctor Toro, the aging doctor calls to Frank, “Are you sure you want to visit him right now? Curfew will be soon, and it’s pretty late… you can always visit him in the morning, and be there before he wakes up.”

Frank stares out into the hallway, biting his lip. “No, I need to see him now. I wasn’t there for him tonight, and I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’ll be okay, Frank.” Doctor Toro says softly.

Frank looks back at the doctor, staring deeply into his eyes. “How do you know?” he asks quietly.

“Well, he’s got you watching over him, doesn’t he?”

Frank smiles for the first time that night, closing the door and making his way over to the hospital wing.

****

Frank arrives at the room written on his permission slip, peering into the small window, but he could not see Gerard through the small rectangle of glass. Frank stands outside the door for a few minutes, impatiently tapping his foot and waiting for some doctor or nurse to come by. When no one did, and Frank can’t stand waiting any longer, he quietly slips into the room, shooting last minute glances to the left and right of the corridor, but finding no employees in the dimly lit hall.

Frank takes in the sight of the room as he gently shuts the door. It was fairly small, with a large, fluorescent square of light in the center of the ceiling. On the right side of the room is a metal cart with medical supplies atop it; next to that, a tall stool; and some other cramped machines that Frank doesn’t recognize.

He slowly walks over to Gerard’s bed, which was opposite of the medical appliances. He gazed down at Gerard’s dormant body, his heart swelling up with anguish. Gerard’s long, creamy why arms lay at his sides, partially covered by the stiff-looking sheets. A syringe-like instrument poked out of Gerard’s left arm, the needle resting inside of one of his veins. It had a long, clear tube connected to its end, which ran up the air a few feet and stopped inside a plastic bag, which was suspended by a metal rail. The rail was a part of some silver, gleaming appliance – Frank was pretty sure this thing was called a dropper. Frank didn’t know what liquid was being injected into Gerard; something to help sleep, or calm his nerves? He bit his lip in concern, not quite comfortable with the situation.

Gerard’s face was turned to the side a little, his right cheek resting against the fluffy pillow beneath his head. Frank walked back to the other side of the room, picking up the stool and gently placing it down next to the bed, making sure not to make any noise. He seated himself on wooden seat, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his head in his hands. He sat there for what felt like hours – days, even – just watching Gerard with a sad expression, blinking slowly at his sleeping friend.

Frank’s head began to droop down, and soon his chin is touching the material of his shirt on his chest, his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes are barely open, and Frank can just make out Gerard’s immobile body from under his lashes. Frank leans forward on his stool, resting his arms on the side of the bed and places his head on them, relaxing from the warmth of his flesh against his face. Frank sighs heavily, his eyelids slowly falling to a close, and a thick blackness envelopes his vision.

“Sleep well…” he mumbles into his forearm, allowing the greedy hands of Sleep to drag him down under consciousness.

****

Frank is roughly shaken awake by cold hands that grab his arm and shoulder, gripping him so tight that it hurts. He stirs and groans, annoyed – it felt like he’d only slept for a couple minutes. He was definitely not ready to face the das – but realized that it must still be night time, due to the blackness that shown through the window above Gerard’s bed.

Frank blinks and rubs his eyes, but his vision was still slightly blurred from sleep. When his eyes travelled over to Gerard, the sight before him shocked him out of his lazy state.

Gerard was sitting upright in his bed, no longer resting peacefully against his pillows. His green-brown eyes were wide and fearful, the bright flecks of color reflecting in the bright light above. His neck and cheeks, normally faire, were flushed a ruby-red, and his chest heaved up and down as he struggled to take in air.

“Oh, no,” Frank utters, confused as to what caused Gerard to freak out, but knowing that their situation was already dangerous.

Gerard’s eyes were trained on his left arm, which shook vigorously on the mattress.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked desperately, trying to catch Gerard’s terrified eyes. The quivering man would not meet Frank’s searching gaze, but went on watching his arm, with his lips pressed together tightly in a thin, white line. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” Frank said, sounding unsure and scared.

“I…” Gerard started, swallowing thickly, his voice unsteady. “I don’t like –“ his breath hitched, and a guttural noise escaped Gerard’s lips. “I don’t like needles…”

“Oh,” Frank breathed, secretly relieved that it was just the needle in his arm, and that Gerard wasn’t phasing this time due to the cause of something deep inside his mind. Frank wasn’t even sure whether or not Gerard was phasing; he wasn’t slipping into an aggressive, resentful demeanor – his face was just a pale, damp mask of horror and anxiety.

Frank thought of just pulling the needle out of Gerard’s arm, to end it all as simple as that, but decided that that wasn’t a very rational idea, and he had to keep his mind straight in a situation like this, or things could go fatally wrong. He didn’t know what pulling the needle out of Gerard’s arm would even do, nor if his friend truly needed whatever liquid was being pumped into his blood stream. He couldn’t hold Gerard’s hand to comfort him, because Gerard loathed being touched by others. _Fucking hell, what am I supposed to do?!_ He thinks, running his hands furiously through his hair, feeling a particularl dampness on his scalp.

“Gerard, what can I do to help you?” Frank asks, wringing his hands in worry. He, too, has begun to resentfully stare at the needle in Gerard’s arm.

“I – don’t – know…” Gerard chokes out, his voice constricted.

“There’s gotta be something we can do! You’re turning green…” Frank gestures weakly to Gerard’s face, feeling panic building up in his stomach, creeping up his ribs into his chest.

“Well – when I was a kid, and I had to get shots at the doctor’s office – my mom would sing me lullabies and stuff, you know, to distract me from – from the shit going on in my arm –“

“I don’t know any lullabies! And I can’t sing for shit!” Frank cries out. “Maybe I should go get a nurse…”

“No!” Gerard gasps. “Don’t do that, she’ll just feed me more medicine, or inject another needle into my arm – Oh god, please don’t do that…”

“Okay, okay, I won’t – but I still don’t know what to do… you need a distraction, right? That will make you forget about it?” Gerard nods at Frank’s question, the flesh of his face still a sickly green, and Frank paces back in forth in thought.

An idea comes to his mind – oh, but he couldn’t, Gerard would kill him – or would he? Their situation is dire, he has to do something – anything – he can’t have Gerard having another fucking seizure on his watch, he simply can’t deal with that…

Frank ceases his pacing and strides over to the side of Gerard’s bed. “Um,” he says, staring uncertainly at Gerard.

“What?” Gerard asks, frantically searching Frank’s face. His long, raven locks of hair are damp on his scalp, and Gerard looks like he might even cry.

“Okay, um, I’m really sorry about this, but you need help – “ that being choppily said, Frank dips his head down to Gerard’s, loosely grasping the rails on the side of the bed – he looks into Gerard’s hazel eyes for a moment, trying to silently communicate that he’s only doing this for Gerard’s benefit – and brings his lips to Gerard’s in an urgent, desperate kiss.

The two men are still for what feels like forever; neither of them moves a muscle. Frank’s lips stay still against Gerard’s, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Finally, Frank tenderly pulls away from Gerard’s face, leavening a few inches of space between them. He notices that his friend’s chest is no longer heaving, and that the green shade is slowly evaporating from Gerard’s skin, and its usual ivory color is creeping back in its place.

Gerard licks his pinkish lips, his tongue darting out and then retreating back inside his mouth quickly. “Oh…” is all he says, looking utterly befuddled.

“I- I’m sorry… “ Frank stutters, feeling a sudden wave of guilt wash over him. _He thinks I’m a creep, he thinks I’m disgusting, oh God what have I done, I just wanted to make the pain go away –_

“Don’t be,” Gerard gushes, gazing deeply into Frank’s eyes. “That was just… unexpected…”

“I know – oh man – I just wanted to distract you, you know? I didn’t mean to force myself on you… I’m really sorry.” Frank refuses to meet Gerard’s gaze, and yet he still doesn’t lean back from Gerard’s head; the slow, warm breath emitting from Gerard’s mouth  tickles his nose slightly.

“It’s okay, Frank,” Gerard says, a small smile playing on his lips. “It helped. And… I kind of liked it. I just – I didn’t know that you were – you know –“

“Oh, yeah – uh, I am,” Frank says, offering a small laugh and scratching the back of his head. “Are – are you?” he asks, not meeting Gerard’s eyes still.

He senses Gerard’s smile growing a little wider. “Yeah – I think so at least. I’ve never had – you know – a boyfriend… have you?” Gerard asks, and Frank sees from his peripheral vision that Gerard is biting the corner his lips.

“Um, yeah, just one – back in freshman year… he kind of sucked, you know, he just dated me for the sexual stuff…”

“Oh, wow – what an asshole. I’m really sorry about that.” Gerard says, his voice oozing with concern.

“It’s okay – he’s gone now, you know – I just haven’t dated anyone since.” Frank’s face is still in its same position, and maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, but he could’ve sworn that Gerard inclined his head towards his own a little bit.

“I’m sorry he messed that up for you. I don’t honestly know how I feel about… sex, and stuff… it’s so intimidating, you know? I’ve never even made out before…” and this time, Gerard doesn’t even sound sexual at all – ashamed, more like.

“Hey, man, it’s okay – making out is great and stuff, but don’t rush things if you’re not ready for it, you know?” Frank can’t even believe him and Gerard are finally talking about sexual things, but he doesn’t want to stop talking about it; this is something he’s always wanted to talk about with his roommate, but always felt it was too touchy of a subject.

“But I _am_ ready!” Gerard protests, looking bothered by Frank’s attempt at reassurance. “I’ve been ready for a while; no one’s just been interested in me yet…”  

“Well,” Frank says, straightening up a bit. “That’s surprising to me. You’re _really_ good looking, Gerard. Whoever has had the opportunity to date you, and passed it up, is an idiot.”

Gerard smiles, but doesn’t respond for a little while; he stares curiously at Frank’s face, his head cocked to this side. He purses his lips, and then says, “Um – Frank – sorry about this, but, it’s kind of happening again – I can feel it, you know, the thing…” Gerard’s eyes flick over to the needle in his arm, and then quickly back to Frank.

“Oh – right – yeah, I didn’t think it would last very long.” He scratches his head, toying with his lip ring in thought. “Uh – do you want me to – ?” Gerard nods hurriedly, and Frank finally lifts his gaze up to meet his friend’s, and the two share a brief, indistinguishable look before their lips come crashing together again.

The kiss is much more passionate this time; what started as a stationary contact of lips quickly develops into both their jaws working together, and Frank’s tongue sliding into Gerard’s mouth. He moves against Gerard’s inner cheeks, tasting the saliva – his mouth holds the bitter taste of sleep, but Frank doesn’t mind because it’s fucking _Gerard,_ he’s actually making out with his best friend – and Frank is brought back to reality from his arousing thoughts when he feels Gerard’s warm tongue graze against his own. Frank nods a little, encouraging his friend – Gerard takes the hint and continues further past Frank’s lips, exploring the inside of his mouth. They’re tongues occasionally intertwine, but soon retreat back behind their lips due to muscle strain, and then pick up their heated movements again. Frank decides to change things up a little; his tongue slides along Gerard’s lower lip, and he nibbles lightly on it with his teeth– and then he begins to trail his wet kisses downwards, gliding along Gerard’s smooth jaw, making sucking noises as his lips pull and tug on the flesh. Gerard’s hand squeezes the back of Frank’s neck in pleasure, and he moans into his ear when Frank reaches Gerard’s earlobe, tickling the soft skin with tongue before enveloping it with his lips. “Jesus,” Gerard groans, making Frank’s cock twitch in anticipation.

Gerard’s hand starts to tug at Frank’s arm, urging him to move his body onto the bed. Frank complies, careful avoiding the arm with the needle poking it in that lies limp against the bed. Frank settles himself lightly on top of Gerard; their chests rest against each other’s for a moment, but Frank finds this position uncomfortable – he shifts his body up again so that he is straddling Gerard’s hips, all the while keeping their lips connected in a hot, desirous embrace.

Frank feels Gerard hips rock into his, causing him to groan in pleasure, and he feels Gerard smile against his lips. Gerard continues this action, since Frank made it clear that he likes it, and Frank starts to grind his hips back, not wanting the friction between him and Gerard to end, but still wanting more.

Frank realizes, after some more minutes of kissing and dry humping, that he can’t just make out with Gerard the whole night to keep him distracted. They both need to sleep, but that’s not going to happen unless the needle is completely washed from Gerard’s mind – but how exactly to do that is the question in Frank’s head. He needs something big, something to make Gerard totally forget the medical instrument in his arm – but not something too far that Gerard phases.

Another idea hits Frank’s mind, and he has to stop himself from grinning, knowing that he’s thought of the perfect solution. His heart pounds furiously against his ribs, but it’s an excited, lustful beating that Frank doesn’t even mind.

He gently caresses Gerard’s face with his hand, feeling a wetness on the man’s jaw where Frank’s lips had been; he allows his fingers to trail down Gerard’s neck – past his shirt, and drawing sudden, high-pitched whimper from Gerard as his fingertips graze the man’s nipple – and then down to the hem of Gerard’s tight jeans.

Frank’s hand stops there, hesitating on the rough fabric – his lips stop moving against Gerard’s, the sucking noises ceasing – and he breaths lightly into Gerard’s mouth, awaiting a sign of permission.

Gerard nods his head, just once, and dives back forward to meet Frank’s lips. Frank wastes no time after this; he fingers the button of Gerard’s jeans, finally popping it up and slowly doing pulling down the zipper. He feels Gerard’s boner against his knuckles as his hand travels downward, causing his own dick to flood with blood.

Frank removes his other hand from its position on Gerard’s chest bone, where his thumb had been tracing slow, tender circles around Gerard’s nipple, through the fabric of his shirt. Gerard let out a confused whine at the removal of Frank’s hand, but stopped the noise when he feels Frank tugging his jeans down, occasionally grazing against his dick, which in turn brought a sensual moan to his lips.

It was definitely a struggle – due to the sheets on top of Gerard legs, which were also trapped beneath Frank’s, the two men had to cease their kissing for a few moments as they pulled the sheets down to their feet and hurriedly pulled the jeans off Gerard’s legs, Frank discarding them lightly to the floor. Their actions had become even more heated and urgent, the two men extremely turned on, neither wanting to waste a single moment with the dull removal of clothing.

Frank’s pants stayed on, though – he did not need to take them off for what he was about to do. He crawls back up to meet Gerard’s lips again, their tongues briefly meeting and intertwining – and with one final nibble at his lower lip, Frank crawls back down the bed so that he is lightly sitting on Gerard’s ankles, his palms supporting his weight on the mattress.

Frank dips his head down to Gerard’s stomach, where his shirt is slightly ruffled, scrunched up just above his navel. Frank showers his belly with kisses, occasionally dipping his tongue into Gerard’s belly button, causing Gerard to writhe in pleasure. Frank smiles against his warm skin, planting kisses down the thin line of dark pubic hair that leads him to the hem of Gerard underwear. Frank bites the fabric, toying with it between his teeth and sliding his tongue against the area of skin between Gerard’s hipbones, which can just be made out through a small layer of fat.

Gerard lets out a deep groan, grabbing at the sheets and bunching them up in his fists. Frank had expected him to hold onto his the back of his head, like his old boyfriend used to do, but the hand never comes; and so he continues his erotic actions, gently removing the underwear from Gerard’s hips, much slower and more careful than he bad with the thick jeans. Frank tosses the underwear down, hearing it softly land against the checkered floor. He moves his head back to Gerard, tenderly rubbing his thighs, tracing lines up and down with the pads of his fingers. Placing delicate kisses on Gerard’s inner thigh, sucking on the soft skin and feeling the hairs against his lips, Frank slowly moved his hand upwards, brining all the way to the top of Gerard’s hip, teasing him a little and then finally drifting over to Gerard’s cock, where he grasps it loosely in his hand. At the contact, Gerard let out the loudest moan so far, his hips bucking up in anticipation. Frank smiles in his thighs, gently cupping Gerard’s balls in his other hand.

Frank pumps Gerard for a few minutes, occasionally gilding his thumb of the head Gerard’s cock, brining uncontrollable moans to the man’s lips. “Oh, _fuck.”_ He groans, writhing in pleasure. When Frank felt a bead of pre-come escape Gerard’s slit, he decides it’s time to pick things up a little– he brings his lips to the head of Gerard’s erect cock, kissing it gently before opening his mouth and taking it all inside, sucking on it a little before moving down the shaft, his lips dragging as his tongue slicks Gerard’s cock.

Frank pulls his head up again, holding the bottom of Gerard’s dick tightly, his head bobbing up and down as he sucks, making wet slurping sounds that somehow turn him on even more. Gerard’s dick hits the back of Frank’s throat, and he has to force himself not to make a choking noise – and he’s glad he didn’t, because Gerard slammed his hands down on the mattress, letting out deep growl of pleasure. “Oh, God, Frank – fucking hell –“

Frank works his head up and down the shaft again, hollowing his cheeks, picking up speed a little. His one hand is still stroking Gerard’s balls, while the other gently pumps the bottom of Gerard’s cock when his mouth gets to the head. Gerard’s hips begin to thrust into Frank’s mouth, but gently, so as not to force himself into Frank. His head begins to slam into the back of Frank’s throat with every thrust, causing Gerard to moan loudly. Frank’s dick is throbbing at this point, but he resists the strong urge to grab his own dick, reminding himself that this is all for Gerard, and not for him.  But he’s so turned on from the erotic noises escaping Gerard’s lip, and he’s so fucking hard that he thinks he may come just from hearing Gerard get off –

“Frank, Frank – I’m gonna – I’m gonna come –“ Gerard chokes out, tightly gripping the sheets in his fists, his hips rocking up and down even harder. Frank hums in acknowledgment, and he moves his head up and down Gerard’s dick a few more times, his tongue roughly grazing the skin and creating hot friction between their skin – and then he pulls his mouth off, immediately starting to pump Gerard, moaning along with the man as Frank finally allows himself to grip his own boner– and Gerard comes in his hand, hot and fast, all noises caught up in his throat as he orgasms. His body twists and writhes, and his eyes are shut tight – his mouth open and closes, silently forming words that are never vocalized. Frank allows Gerard to ride out the orgasm in his hand, and with the other, he pumps himself a few times before he climaxes, too, catching the hot and sticky liquid in the palm of his hand. He thrusts into his fist for a moment, making sure he enjoys all of his orgasm – and then collapses against Gerard’s bare, sweaty chest. Frank hadn’t even noticed that the man had pulled off his shirt while he was blowing him. The two of them lay against each other in the aftermath of their orgasms, breathing hard and heavy. Frank’s cheek rests against Gerard’s damp pectoral bone, and he doesn’t want to move, he just wants to lie there forever, breathing with Gerard, feeling weightless and blissful.

Gerard sighs peacefully, placing his arm around Frank’s back. His shirt was still on, though, so Gerard had to rub Frank’s muscles through the soft fabric, but it felt just as good to Frank. “Was that… enough?” he asks quietly, his eyes still closed as he feels the weight of sleep beginning to take over him.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks.

“Did it distract you?”

“Oh – yeah, it did. It’s not even bothering me right now. Thank you so much, Frank, really – not many people would do that…” Gerard chuckles gently, and Frank feels his chest moving up and down with the laughter.

“Good,” he mumbles, glad that Gerard can finally sleep in peace.

“Um… Frank?”

“Hmm?” he responds, breathing gently through his nose.

“Did you only do that… _just_ to distract me?” Gerard’s voice is soft, perhaps a little hesitant.

“Huh?” Frank asks sleepily, not understanding Gerard’s meaning.

“Like – would you have done that even if I hadn’t needed a distraction?”

Frank finally gets what Gerard is trying to communicate, and smiles to himself. “Yeah, definitely – but only if you wanted me to. I’d never force that on you or anything.”

Frank hears the smile in Gerard’s voice as he speaks. “Good – um, I’d try to do something for you, too, but my arm’s kind of – stuck –“

“Don’t worry, dude, I didn’t even expect anything in return. That was all for you.”

“Thanks, Frank.” Gerard’s repeats, his voice revealing a slight hint of exhaustion, as though his lack of sleep is finally catching up to him. Neither of them knows what time it is; definitely the early hours of the morning, though, due to the thick darkness outside. 

“Goodnight, Frank.” He whispers, his arm not leaving Frank’s back.

“Goodnight.” Frank murmurs into Gerard’s chest. His fingers slowly trace up and down his friend’s forearm, the skin warm and soft. The two men drift into unconsciousness quickly, and both would agree that they had the best sleep that night of their whole stay at William James.


End file.
